Valentine Evenings
by araeofsomething
Summary: Fluff & LEMONy stuff!   Sarah is the owner/overnight reservations operator for "Valentine Evenings" - a renowned Hollywood escort service. Let's see what this survivor does when forced into a role & confronted with a man from her past. S/J
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my 2nd fanfic - I appreciate all comments/reviews. Enjoy this fluffy, silly stuff. :D

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"Valentine Evenings. This is Samantha. How may I help you?" The young woman answered the phone with a professional edge in her cultured voice, knowing it would give the caller pause. Too many nutjobs thought this was a call-girl or phone sex operation.

She twirled a strand of her long chocolate brown hair around a finger, her bright green eyes closing in relief as she listened to the caller describe the Barbie doll look alike he wanted for next Friday's charity event. They had plenty of "Barbie" types in the database. She made notes on a pad of paper in between "Mmm hmms," And "Yes, sirs." Deep in thought, she tapped a manicured finger to her full lips and checked the calendar in front of her on her laptop.

She smiled as she repeated his order back to him, "Six foot blonde, 38-34-36, preferred D-cup, intelligent of international affairs, good manners, and under thirty. I believe Natasha would fit the bill perfectly. If you would please bear with me for a moment, I'll check her schedule." 'Samantha' pulled up the company-wide schedule on the laptop in front of her showing the girls availability for the next month.

"Okay, sir, it looks like Natasha is available from nine pm until two am if that works for you?" A pause.

"Yes, of course If you'd like to know more about Natasha, I can email you her bio so you are prepared when she's escorted to your hotel – the Wilshire, correct? - next Friday. I will also send along an electronic copy of the agreement with clauses for confidentiality and fees appropriate for Natasha's legitimate services."

Another pause.

She took down his email, and attached a file on 'Natasha' and the contract, hitting send quickly.

"It should be arriving in your Inbox shortly, Mr. Braham. Go ahead and fax it back when you've signed it. We accept all major credit cards." A snickered remark from the client made her smile lopsidedly. "Yes, sir, thank you. Here at Valentine Evenings we thank you for your business. If you have any questions or issues, please call back and just ask for the operator – it'll come right to me. Thank you and have a great night!"

Sarah hung up the phone and blew out a breath.

Sarah Williams, formerly of New Haven, Connecticut, was a survivor. She also happened to be the owner and operator of the widely heralded underground Hollywood escort service "Valentine Evenings" - advertising full satisfaction with every 'order'. She snorted, _It was just like McDonald's! _

"Tina Marie! You have a _date_ next Friday with a charity for a client." He voice echoed through the nearly empty office. Of course it was early Saturday morning and most of the escorts had already checked in and clocked out for the night, so she didn't really expect a response.


	2. Chapter 2

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Her trials in the Labyrinth when she was just fifteen had taught Sarah the necessity of determination. And that she'd been a spoiled brat to wish her toddler brother away in the first place.

Sarah could never regret meeting the Goblin King though. Her teenage heart had nearly burst when he offered her the wishes and dreams of her heart. Thankfully she had realized it had to be a trick to keep Toby there in the Underground. At least that's what she kept telling herself all these years later. After all, she was only fifteen then and really, she didn't want to think he was some kind of creep who preyed on kids. She shuddered and shook her head as she finished her notes for Tina Marie in the document on Mr. Braham's requests, and muttered to herself, "Can't trick me..."

The Goblin King had played a starring role in her impossible daydreams for years, but alas, that's pretty much where he stayed. _Well_, she giggled, _besides my mirror when I spy on him_.

Funny thing, that mirror. She could call on her friends all she liked, and even those on not-so-friendly terms.

One night when she was tired from a hard day at her office and had guzzled a few glasses of wine too many, she decided she wanted to see _the _handsome fae who glittered with every step of leather and tight breech clad perfection. Who cared that he had been a seductive and spoiled jerk?

She smirked, _Oh how it must have burned his biscuits when I defeated the Labyrinth and won back Toby. _Sarah had still wondered if he stuffed socks down his pants, so in her inebriated state she decided to take a peek.

"Show me Jareth's crotch, please." Little did she know that with the sniggering of those words, she had begun her shame spiral. Unknowingly, spying on his majesty sealed her fate.

Sarah had gasped, dropped the empty wineglass onto the floor, and blushed to the roots of her hair. Behold, before her was the same well-endowed outline she recalled as a teenager; only tonight he was dressed in fawn colored tights.

_Ooo baby, tighty tight tights,_ she drooled appreciatively and started to reach towards the mirror. _I wonder if I could get my hands around_- she mentally slapped herself out of her stupor and requested the mirror to show the Goblin King.

Maybe reminding herself of who's cock she was lusting after would give her some drunken perspective.

His gorgeous white blond hair and intense blue and brown eyes appeared within the beveled surface. The wicked up-tilted brows were the same as his cruelly thin lips. Jareth truly seemed to have aged very little, although his face was pinched and tired-looking. His white poet shirt was rolled up on his arms, the shorter than normal black hessian boots offsetting for the brown tights. _He looks so... dejected,_ she took a closer look at his face and placed her hand on the cool glass surface.

Somewhere in the vicinity of her heart, she had felt a twist and a tug that made her pause.

_Could she really be feeling sorry for him? _He was an all-powerful immortal Fae (she'd done her research after the Labyrinth, that's for sure)._ No way,_ she denied. Still, a portion of her heart and mind whispered to each other, "_Look how alone he is, and how weary he seems. Reach out a hand to him." _

"Yeah, I'll reach out a hand to him... and grab his nards!" she muttered and then calmed, sudden tears blurring her vision. Sarah had gulped; she was alone and weary too. _Too bad for both of them_.

Over the last year she had been spending copious amounts of time in front of the mirror, studying him in all his dickish wonder. Autocratic, definitely a type A personality, and … and … Sarah sighed wistfully, that lithe body.

Technically, Jareth the Goblin King was still her adversary though a decade had passed. _A survivor always had to know where it's enemies were,_ she rationalized.

Most of the time she saw him on his throne of bones, poring over documents or directing the Goblins on projects. They were doing some kind of 'Beautify the Underground' project from what she could catch in the conversations amongst him and what appeared to be his foremen -err _foregoblins_. His eyes would narrow as he stood over large parchment scrolls; she imagined them to be blueprints of some kind. Other times she would covertly watch him strolling the gardens, amongst the Underground gardeners; again delegating and oftentimes cussing them out – or rather, guttural shouts that passed for cussing in the lower world. Sometimes she would observe Jareth at a heavily carved desk in what she was sure was a study or library. Always pensive, surrounded by books and a goblet studded with green jewels. Never had she seen him less than fully attired or in a compromising situation. She dared to hope for that day, and yet knew something inside her would wither and die if she knew there was someone else for him.

_Ughhh! _She almost wished that she could go back to that costume-wearing-makeup-weilding-melodramatic-teenager. Life was simpler ten years ago, but then again, so was what she wanted out of it. Lines were clearly drawn as an adult. Sometimes being a grown-up was an absolute clusterfuck of regrets.

Sarah had completed high school, drama dreams intact, but reality hit hard after college when she realized that majoring in the liberal arts hadn't done her any favors. Luckily, she had minored in business, so she had something to fall back on when her acting career didn't pan out.

The day after graduation, she hot-footed it out to the West coast to soak up the sun and sand. This would not been one of her regrets, Sarah swore. She'd been lucky enough to find an apartment to share with a few other wannabe actresses for cheap rent in decent neighborhood. While auditioning for different parts in projects she had waited tables, sure that choice parts would come her way soon. She snorted aloud. _Choice jobs, my fanny!_

She had landed a few commercials for hemorrhoid cream, of all things, that placed her on a mechanical bull. _By the end of the shoots she really did need the stupid cream. Gah. _

Then there were those lovely florist commercials – too bad she developed hay fever the week of shooting. Itchy red watery eyes showed up fantastic in closeups, but were a disaster on set. Thankfully an allergy ad had bought up her stills from the shoot so it wasn't a total loss.

_Oh, oh!, _she reminded herself, _What about the print ads for the hot dog place on Rodeo? _She'd nearly choked on the wiener and bun the first few hours of the shoot.

The photographer and management had kept the shutters clicking until she finally did choke and ended up throwing up on the photog's leather Prada boots. _Dumbass; she'd told him she was going to spew and he refused to listen when she told him she had a bad gag reflex._

_Well, whatever_, she grinned to herself and waved away the memories. She had lived cheaply for nearly five years and invested very wisely. Now she lived in her own two bedroom condo down the street, and made enough to live comfortably while she was pursuing her Masters in Business Management. She had a thriving, legitimate business of which to be proud. She really couldn't complain. Her family back East called and occasionally visited. Toby was a well-adjusted high school sophomore. Sarah shrugged mentally, _They have their lives there and mine is here_.

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So now she sat, in the understated and somewhat cramped offices of "Valentine Evenings" in West Hollywood acting as their overnight reservations rep.

_You'd think owning an escort service would be glamourous, wouldn't you?_ Sarah winced. Just last year she'd had to hire additional office staff to act as 'Management' so the girls wouldn't think she was playing favorites with clients. Her girls could be such bitches if they didn't think they were getting their 'due'.

She paid the bills and took care of payroll, but she'd handed over the daily control to capable hands until she graduated in a couple years. Right now, taking reservations overnight and catching up on any paperwork was her main job. Occasionally she would get to step out as an escort, but those dates were few and far between. _Hell, she didn't even have time for a real love life of her own, so getting paid for a date certainly beat sitting at home with her cat – cat! - eating tuna salad sandwiches and dill pickles watching movies from the 80s_.

"But no, I'm not bitter about the missing male piece of my life. Not at all." Her mind's eye fixed on a beautiful being with mismatched eyes – and a pair of tight, _tight_ pants that left little to the imagination. She fanned herself and grinned stupidly.

In a way, he was responsible for her picking up and moving to Hollywood aka Hollyweird. She'd always thought if he was ever going to pop back into her life again – a fond wish – that he would feel most at home in this melting pot of humanity. The Goblin King could blend in without arousing suspicion, unless he decided to have the Goblins follow behind him. That would be a red flag to avoid him, even for the freaks. _I wonder if the glitter he exudes would cover up the trail of goblins._ Giggling, she tried to imagine Jareth in all his glitterific Glam playing the Pied Piper to a line of goblins.

Thinking of the goblins reminded her she needed to contact Hoggle soon. Silly as it sounded, she still kept in regular touch with her Labyrinth friends. Sarah never directly asked about Jareth, fearing the King would somehow hear and sniff her out.

She tried to check in every few weeks with the boys, but things had been busier than usual this spring what with school and the company. Also, Hoggle and the missus were expecting number four, so they were doubtless busy themselves. _Hmm... maybe I should contact Didymus and see if he and Ludo would like to come and watch that Fairy Tale movie with Drew Barrymore. _She'd gotten an advanced copy from one of V.E.'s regular clients who was a studio head. She knew that Ludo and Didymus – aka "Lou" and "Diddy S." as she called them, were trainers for the that ragtag Goblin Army of Jareth's and would probably appreciate a night off. She made a mental note to call them on the mirror tomorrow.

Well, at least she had good friends – both human and fairy tale, a place to live, and her own company. _Yes, life was good_, she mused, _even without male companionship_.


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey folks! Here's more setup... hope you're enjoying it still! :)_

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Valentine Evenings had come about in a strange way. The first apartment that Sarah had shared in West Hollywood wasn't too far away from Sunset Boulevard which is where her first interaction with a call-girl had taken place.

Vonda Bomba, a tall raven haired twenty-something, was already a veteran. She would hang out by the bus shelter where Sarah picked up the bus most days. One afternoon, Vonda had asked to bum a ciggie from her, and Sarah answered with, "Yeah, sorry 'bout that. Don't smoke. You know they can kill you, right?"

Vonda had grimaced, returning with, "I was trying to quit anyways. My pimp says they make the johns nervous. They don't want their wives to know they been hangin' 'round with smokers." she cackled, "But they sure know it anyway when I make sure to leave my lipstick on their pants and shirts! Gotta plant it just...right. Y'know, doing my public service to warn the wives?"

Sarah had laughed and then pulled herself up short, "What? You have a pimp? You look healthy and... normal. And wouldn't warning their wives cut into your business?" She had looked over Vonda's low cut sapphire maxi dress, noting the healthy glow of her olive skin. "I thought girls who hooked got beat up by their pimps," she came back candidly, eyebrow raised.

Vonda had smirked,"Jaime treats me good," she struck a helpless pose – her hand at her brow and a overdone look of desperation, "Some of us working girls need a man to manage things behind the scenes. Never mind that I have a degree in International Business, pfftttt." She rolled her chocolate eyes.

"What. The. Hell. You should be an actress with the dramatic flair you've got!" Sarah had been shocked and a little scared if what Vonda said was true. _Well, my liberal arts degree is crap for sure now._

"Girl, why you think a chica like me is even out here in Los Angeles? For the free rent?"

Sarah narrowed her eyes, "You're not really a street hooker, are you?"

The young latin woman grinned mischievously and winked, "Naw. I'm a call girl, sweet cheeks."

"What's the difference, really?" Sarah'd snorted and checked her watch. The bus would be there soon.

"Oh doll, there's a world of difference! I don't have to cruise the corners looking for dates – they come to Jaime and he calls me in – hence the term 'call girl'. During the day, I get to my auditions if I got any, and my nights are spent meeting Johns and making moola. Everybody gotta get paid, y'know."

A pitying look from Sarah followed by, "That's kinda... well, a sad life. Have you gotten any breaks yet? In show business I mean, not from a client," she had winced at the faux pas.

Vonda waived Sarah's concern off, "Puhlease, I'm a survivor. It's all good." She smiled blindingly, "I'm sure it'll be anytime soon now when I get _the call,_ yeah. 'Vonda Bomba' in lights. I can see it now. The guys call me 'Boom Boom Bomba'. What's your name _mija_? I can't just keep thinking of you as 'the pasty white gringa girl at the bus stop'."

Sarah had laughed and her reservations of befriending this fiesty woman had crumbled. Introductions were made; Vonda commented that "Sarah Williams was way too white bread for living in the neighborhood" which made them both giggle as they rode the transit their separate ways that day.

Vonda had turned into a true friend over the course of many conversations and several months. Sarah had realized that both of the girls were wasting their talents and deserved a shot at being legitimate and filling a real need in the social world of Hollywood.

The double super bonus – Vonda wouldn't have to sell her body anymore – just her sparkling personality and witty repartee while getting some use out of that business degree. _Yep, it was a real degree_; Sarah had seen it. The paper was framed and everything – authentic from the prestigious Cal Poly Tech itself.

They ended up getting an apartment together a year into their unlikely friendship – she'd been relieved to leave behind those bottle-bleached-bitch-wanna-be-actress-roommates. _Who knew they would not only steal her food but her damn tampons, too! _Vonda and Sarah had moved into a rat trap of a two bedroom apartment that overlooked a dumpster. It was a fourth floor walk-up, but it had free cable and was rent controlled. For two out-of-work actresses during the daytime, they did alright. Eventually they had been able to afford separate residences – and Sarah bought her own condo.

Nighttime was where they made the dinero though. Vonda was adamant that she could continue her call girl lifestyle with Jaime as her pimp, but demanded that he take Sarah on as a legit escort so she could make some dough, and have some frame of reference for the industry, but not have to 'work it' as Vonda called the sex acts with clients.

The first few 'dates' with Johns had been nerve wracking for Sarah; until she began imagining the men she was out with – powerful, rich, intelligent men – were Jareth. She pictured his face over the poor saps as she ate dinner, danced, socialized, and kept the conversation funny and clever with these mere mortals. By the end of the evening, most of the men had convinced themselves that she wanted their bodies. If Sarah had a dollar for every time a man tried to weasel into her taxi home, she'd be rich. Well, rich_er,_ she grinned_. _

She always kept everything professional – up to the point where she closed the heavy yellow cab door in their faces with a false apology and a sweet, "Don't forget the fun we had tonight!" _She was such a bitch, _she had laughed. It kept the guys coming back for more though. Men loved a hard to get woman, she'd determined, after her initial clientele started making repeated reservations for her time.

The women figured out early on that Jaime was doing it all wrong. He wasn't using technology to keep track of the girls he had, their schedules, or how much was coming in versus outgoing cash. The girls knew they had to go into business themselves; and that's just what they did. Marketing themselves as "The Women Who Knew Too Much" they were able to pick up authentic business and legitimatized their small company. Vonda was able to stop 'working it', finally. They had a clientele of twenty rotating Hollywood movers and shakers by the end of their first six months, thanks to Jaime's contacts in the industry. Jaime proved to be an invaluable source of other insight and information though, so when he decided to leave 'the biz', he made sure to press the girls into taking his Johns.

They lost some of Jaime's guaranteed money with the name and policy change (no sex!) – but with Sarah's other contacts in the film and print industry, they eventually picked up about seventy five qualified girls that she had vetted herself, and over five hundred clients. Any given red carpet event had at least five of V.E.'s girls on the arm of some successful industry type, smiling demurely for the camera. They further weeded out the chaff and kept the cream of the men, but they knew they needed a better business name. Something catchy that would remind their key demographic of romance and all that it entailed. And potentially keep the guys in check - hands off the merchandise and all.

They were both undecided until Sarah had _the dream._

She dreamed of the masked ball Jareth had ensnared her within, and being in the protected circle of his lovely muscled arms. He was singing to her, "_I'll paint you mornings of gold/I'll spin you Valentine evenings/Though we're strangers 'til now/We're choosing the path/Between the stars_." as his beautiful blue and brown eyes sparkled at her. His flyaway blonde hair tickling her face as he leaned in towards her... and then she tripped in the dream and fell through the crystal. Waking up in bed, gasping, Sarah knew she and Vonda had their company name.

Clients – they serviced men exclusively – called, ordered their perfect date, and if Valentine Evenings had the woman, information was exchanged, contracts were signed, money exchanged hands, and the time and place was set up. All the women were checked in as "active status" on the V.E. system before they were dropped off with their 'date', and had to come back to the office by the agreed upon hour to check in and clock out. They had a reliable limo service that always transported the girls for the evening, so there was no issue about a woman safely arriving and leaving at all hours of the night.

Every woman was paid according to her 'KSAs – Knowledge, Skills, and Abilities. Each woman was also required to see the company physician once a month for a physical check up and consultation on their mental health. It culled the crazies – read, stalkers – from infiltrating the ranks of professional and honest women who took their job seriously. Seniority amongst the women also commanded a nice pay increase as well. It was all very legitimate and above board.

Some women chose to offer extra services a la carte – this was a no-no – to longterm clients aka '_Frequent Fliers'_. "Valentine Evenings" was not legally held responsible where these men were concerned because the services were exchanged after the allotted 'date' terms. Most clients however were considered above reproach as they attended social functions and did little in the physical realm with the girl on their arm for the evening. Essentially, every man wanted the status symbol of a beautiful, smart woman capable of handling herself in a room of political or societal barracudas. If their was money for sex involved after the 'date', then so be it. It was off the clock and not V.E's problem.

Sarah leaned back in her chair to stretch and glanced at the clock. "Mmm... almost four. I should be able to head out soon. Hey, Tina!' she yelled over the cubicle wall, "Did you get your reservation notice from me?" She waited, listening carefully. All she heard was a soft snore. This eight to four am shift was a bit hard on some people, she allowed, but not her. She rather preferred the overnights to finish her undergrad business class work. _No matter what age, school sucks_.

Vonda felt the same, she grinned. The former call girl had returned to school to get her PhD in Business – and was currently out of state visiting her family in New Mexico. Sarah couldn't wait until she got back – then_ she_ could go on vacation for a couple weeks finally.

She sighed inwardly, if only she had taken her dreams from Jareth when he offered them. Granted, she had been just a kid, and that would have bordered on pedophilia; she cringed. _Nevermind,_ she told herself, _don't think about him again. You know what happens when you do that... You consume half a bottle of wine and ask the mirror to show you his bulge. Ugh._

The raised flesh of her arms and the sudden swirling of cool air around her alerted her to her body's own response whenever she thought of Jareth, her Goblin King.

_Yeah, sure he's MY Goblin King,_ she rolled her eyes and started cleaning up her desk to leave. Her nipples pebbled and she started feeling flashes of heat in all her erogenous zones. _I vanquished him, and not once have I ever regretted it. But shit, those tight hose... wow … _As a woman, Sarah wanted a closer peek at whatever he was packin' in those tights. _No more peeking through the mirror at him,_ she vowed. _NO MORE_. Three-fifty eight am and counting.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: And so... they meet again! lol_

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Sarah had walked the six blocks to her condo building and literally fell in her lonely pillow top mattress without a second thought. Her gargantuan cat Goldie could go another few hours without food. No worries there.

She had the dream again.

One of the affects of thinking about Jareth each time was a replica of the 'peach dream' as she called it. Goblin-masked figures taunted and teased her, and she in that 80's white poofy sleeved dress that she had once adored, while _he _sang to her of "mornings of gold" and all that entailed. All of her prepubescent dreams come true, except for the happily ever after. The dream seemed to become more real each time she thought of _him, _but always, she broke the crystal and fell down – and into another dream. Disjointed images flew at her of herself in a vibrant red dress, her thick and curly hair piled on top of her head, as she was being escorted into a different kind of ballroom by a faceless man. His tux tails were trailing behind them, his arm clasped hers and she gave him a sidelong glance. She gasped in the dream, pulled back – and then she woke up into the reality of her electric blue bedroom walls.

_Dammit, I was so close to seeing … something. Oh well, at least I looked good._

She rubbed her forehead in confusion and lay in bed for another half hour before she decided to get on with her afternoon.

It was after two when she pulled her carcass out of bed and decided to scrounge up some lunch. One tuna salad sandwich later, she toyed with the idea of calling in to work tonight – Sundays were usually quite dead and dull at VE. _But the payroll is due,_ she thought. She fed Goldie a can of tuna, "At this rate, the only one who'll love me is someone like you, G." She scratched him behind his ear and started picking up her apartment – dishes in the sink needed to be done, a load of laundry to run, her school work needed to be organized.

_Crap, I was going to call on Hoggle_, she sighed and wondered where to fit that in.

She did manage a brief conversation with Hoggle and his wife – Yubbica. _Yeah, no telling where that name came from. _Yubs, as she was affectionately known, was a smaller and more voluptuous version of Hoggle with a delicate yet happily cragged face. She was definitely a sweetie – they'd named their firstborn daughter Sawah after Sarah, but only because Yub had insisted. Hoggle had wanted to name her Goggle - "Ya know, Girl Hoggle...Goggle?" he'd insisted to Sarah, who had openly laughed and agreed that with Yub that Sawah was better. Sarah had been thankful for their friendship over the years and the visits they could make to see her. She didn't travel much to the Underground. It was just understood that it wasn't a really safe place for her. Really, who knew how pissed Jareth would be after a decade? It could feel just like yesterday to him and voila! Off to the Bog of Eternal Stench she went.

This short mirror check-in lasted all of five minutes.

"Hoggle, Yubs, I need you!"

Their dear faces appeared almost instantaneously within the surface. They spoke simultaneously.

"Sarah! Dearling, how fare ye?" Yub grinned showing her large teeth.

"Sarah!" Hoggle looked to his left and gulped.

"Hi Hoggle, Yubs... how are you and the new babe doing? Any day now? How're the kids?" Sarah grinned with pleasure at seeing them hold each other close – and maybe a bit of envy because she wanted the same thing – as they spoke to her. Yub's rounded belly protruding out quite far. It was a wonder she could walk!

"Oh my, sweetums! I _am _'ready to pop' as you say in Above. The darlings are fine and just as dirty as last time you saw them," Yub giggled.

Hoggle whispered something to her and she gave him a glare, "I'll not have anyone ruining my visit with dear Sarah. He can wait his turn!" then she turned back to the mirror with a beatific smile, "The young'st will be here soon. A day or two I thinks." Yub and Hoggle rubbed her belly. He looked to his left nervously again and looked back at her. "Sarah," he whispered, "there's someone else who wants to say hello..."

Abruptly Hoggle and Yubs moved out of view as a figure cloaked in a long black evening coat came into focus. His hair appeared silver blond, his eyes intense in their blue and brown curiosity.

"What...?" _OHMYGOD_! Those eyes. Sarah was stunned into silence for a moment. He took advantage of that fact.

"And so, precious Sarah, we meet again." The sound of his clipped tones took her back to their first meeting in the nursery.

And then, with a soft thud, she slid unceremoniously to the floor in a boneless heap.

She could still see him from the floor, but he couldn't view her. Thankfully. She drank her fill and let her heart run wild in her chest. He was even more beautiful than she remembered, but still, seemed so tired. Her heart clenched a bit. The sparkle of magic around him turned a shade blue and a bit red with some purple glitter blended in places. _Interesting._

"Sarah?" his upper crust accent highlighted a vague concern. His eyebrows rose higher in his hairline – _if that was possible_, she nearly giggled.

Her first coherent thoughts flowed; _Christ on a cracker! is my hair combed? Did I even put makeup on? Holy shit, this can't be happening! A decade! Wait – he must want something. Shit, shit, shit! Okay_, she took a deep breath, _how do I play this?_ A few more deep breaths and she psyched herself up: _You're an adult now, Sarah Williams. Act like one instead of hiding on the floor in your bedroom. Get a grip already!_

Slowly, she raised herself to a standing position directly in front of the mirror, dusting off her flared leg jeans and the kelly green v-neck t-shirt she'd tossed on earlier. She adopted a regal bearing, her amber hair hung long and loose, emerald eyes sparking, and she met him eye to eye and stare to stare. And whispered, "I'm fine, Jareth."

She heard the swift intake of his breath, saw his eyes widen, the pupils dilate. The desire on his face plain as day, or at least that's what she told herself.

And then the mirror returned to its' glassy reflection. The link had been cut – but not by her.


	5. Chapter 5

_ A/N: Okay folks... building up again. *G* I have at least another two chapters written, but won't be back in town until Saturday (3/24/2012). So I hope this keeps you entertained until then. Enjoy! And remember: I love reviews! :D_

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His rejection stung, just like the silent fury that was building within her. He had closed the portal. _That.. that.. jerk_! She crossed her arms and stood in front of the mirror, fuming.

_How dare he! How dare he cut off – holy schnikees, what the hell was he doing at Hoggle's house? Were they in trouble? _She dismissed the notion almost and Yubs were good, kind folk who did their King's bidding without issue – most of the time.

_Well, maybe seeing her was just too much for him to take in, _she allowed_. _

Sarah Williams was a woman grown now and she doubted he'd been peeking at her like she had him.

_Ha, so she'd scared him off,_ she talked herself into believing while she paced in front of her vanity. _Yeah, that's it. He couldn't face her in all her_ – she looked up and down at herself in the mirror for the fiftieth time since he'd cut the magic off – _jean and t-shirt glory_. She huffed a breath into her hand; she'd remembered to brush her teeth and her hair was only slightly mussed from the slide earlier. Sarah sat on the previously slippy chair and wiggled a bit to make sure her butt wouldn't suddenly meet the floor again.

She studied her reflection. The complexion that shown in the mirror was flawless porcelain just as his had been. Her eyes were still pools of deep green. Sarah squeezed them shut and opened one eye to look back at her reflection. Nope, still no magic call. _Dammit Jareth, don't leave me hangin' like this..._

"I am not that repulsive you freakin' Fae! If you were here, I'd show you, Jareth. I would show you..." her anger burned out leaving her slumped on the vanity, slightly toward the mirror. "I'm a wreck! I hate him, but I love him – no, scrap that – I am _infatuated_ with the being I knew when I was fifteen. How sick is that?" She stuck a finger in her mouth and make a gagging sound. "Like, gag me with a spoon!"

When Sarah realized she was talking to her own reflection she sighed wearily and pulled herself up to stand. She wanted to call back to Hoggle and Yubbica, but didn't dare as that tricky King might try something. Like hanging up on her again. _Gahhhrrrr... boys are dumb, boys are dumb, boys are dumb_, she kept repeating the mantra until she had finished packing her bag for work. _She'd call them in a few days and see how things were_, she promised, _once the sting of Jareth's brush-off wore away_.

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As she did every night she worked, Sarah left her apartment around seven thirty. Not only was it good exercise, but she didn't own a car. Not yet. She'd just never seen the need. Metro transit went everywhere that Sarah wanted or needed.

Vonda however, had a sporty little red Honda Accord that Sarah would smirk at whenever she would see it. "You do know it's in the top five cars to be stolen for parts, right Von?" Her friend had smiled serenely and told her in a singsong voice, "That's what insurance is for sweet cheeks! Plus, you can borrow it whenever you want." Sarah had yet to take her up on the offer, still preferring mass transit or walking.

She could smell the street vendors' foods – _carne asada_, potstickers, _tamales_, and the occasional kebab stand as she traversed the sidewalks lined with businesses – but wasn't actively participating in identifying the cuisines.

Usually the ten minute walk into the offices was relaxing.

Tonight, she couldn't really shake the feeling something was brewing. Something big. Had she unknowingly let him in? Or was she just being paranoid and Jareth was toying with her. _Then again_, she tilted her head to the side and looked longingly at a storefront window with _Pan Nuevo_, _maybe she should give up her obsession with what was down his pants. __Maybe he – oh no, was it possible that he could trace back her 'calls'? Was there such a thing as replaying the calls she had made if he could __trace them? Oh holy hell, she could be in some serious shit. Damn her and that bottle of red wine! Okay, okay, those several bottles of red wine_, she lamented and checked her watch_. Nope, no time for a pastry, _and kept on to her destination_._

A hundred more feet had her grasping one of the large brass handles attached to a door that bore in small red print "_Valentine Evenings_". The storefront windows had been curtained inside with heavy black velvet drapes to maintain their privacy and to hide the on-going renovation and construction. Honestly, they would never really let anyone see what they were doing inside anyway; they'd definitely splurged on the window coverings for the dramatics.

She hiked her bag higher up on her shoulder and pressed her personal code into the keypad beside the door. The offices were housed within an old strip mall Woolworth's that had gone out of business long ago. It was on the smaller end at about two thousand square feet, but it was theirs.

She waited for the small _snick _as it was accepted and opened the heavy door, to see a friendly face at the reception desk.

"Hey babycakes! How're you tonight?" Stella, the daytime receptionist greeted Sarah happily. _She was just so damn perky,_ Sarah decided. From her blonde weave down to her pink pointed Manolos. _Too bad she was really a he_, she smirked. _And a he with better fashion sense than her for sure._

Sarah and Vonda had picked out Stella themselves; she was the only staff member that could act like oh-my-god-I'm-so-scared-of-that-teeny-tiny-spider and still bench press over five hundred pounds if necessary. S/he was not only an excessively well-organized receptionist, but a well-meaning busy-body.

"Hey Stell, how's it hanging?" she joked and wandered off to the kitchenette, hidden behind a cubicle panel to the right. Housing a full size fridge, a microwave, sink, and coffeepot and mugs, Sarah was proud they kept it as clean as they did. She placed her _nouvelle cuisine_ – peaches with cottage cheese and some crackers and cheese with carrots. What could she say, she always craved peaches when she was agitated.

Stella followed Sarah into the kitchenette cubicle,"Girlfriend, you have got to do something about your wardrobe! I know you work the overnight and all, but those jeans and …. oh gawwwdd... that shirt? Just scream _HELP_. You are hiding yourself away in those bags. Dress like you own this place, Sarah. And really, cheese and rice, when's the last time you had a date, sweetie?" Stella clutched her purse – or murse, as Sarah described it – and glanced pointedly at her boss.

"I date plenty," Sarah fibbed unconvincingly, "I just don't brag about it, bigmouth." She stuck her tongue out and blew a raspberry, "Ppbpbpbpbptttt!"

"Oh yeah, Miss Maturity for ya! Please don't feel the need to lie to me." Stella huffed and slung her murse over her shoulder, "Honey, you need to get a life. And a sense of fashion." Her Adam's apple bobbed, "Any man would be interested if you showed a little T & A, ya know what I mean?"

"I, my dear Madam, answer the phones mostly, and thus do not feel the need to dress up. I'm just a lowly peon – in my own company," she smirked and moved to the coffeepot counter. "And trust me, I had a date recently." Sarah took a cup and filled it with the office coffee, stirring in creamer and mumbled, "Within six months counts as recent, right?" If you could count a working lunch with her accountant for V.E.

Stella guffawed, "Oh sweets, you crack me up! And I'm not the _Madam_ around here," s/he winked, "When you are ready for a fairytale makeover, you just give me a ring. I'll have the men coming at you in droves. Gotta run, darlin'. Have a good night!" She walked perfectly tall, stable, and elegant in her cream Dior knockoff skirt and jacket with those killer four inch heels. "Bitch Goddess; must be hell to shave those legs." Sarah sniggered and made her way down the hallway to her own desk, and sat down to began payroll.

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_Damn that ringing_. The shrill tones were waking her from a delicious dream where some mystery man covered in glitter was nuzzling her neck and - _oh shite, I'm at work!_

Sarah blearily opened her eyes and realized that she'd drooled onto her hand, having crossed her arms under her head as she slept with her head on the desk. The last thing she'd remembered was focusing her attention on the scheduled dates for tonight and tomorrow. Gotta verify all the girls had their notes and assignments. _Wow, she must have been more tired than she thought. Ughh... The phone was still waiting to be answered!_

"Good evening and thank you for calling Valentine Evenings. This is Sar – Samantha,"she smacked her forehead, "and how may I assist you?" Sarah's sleep-husky voice sounded far too sexy, she admitted. _Let's hope and pray they don't mistake this for a phone sex company_, she grimaced.

The cool and crisp British tone on the other end returned with, "Yes, is this Valentine Evenings, the premier Escort agency for Hollywood, California, within the borders of the United States?" the caller cleared his throat.

"Well, that's a bit strange way to say it, but yes." She was more awake now, and kinda weirded out. _Borders of the United States? Was this guy smoking crack? _

Her brows drew together in concentration to pick up on any more abnormality.

The Brit's clipped voice continued with, "My apologies. My name is... Jeeves and my employer and I are not … natives here. He has tasked with obtaining a female escort for an event. He's a European Royal – _minor_ Royalty, really -" _a heated whisper in the background exclaimed "Minor? I'll have you bo-" _a throat was cleared, "and he's very specific in his wants."

Sarah took a moment to assess the situation as non-threatening – but still weird – and began to launch into her standard script, "Valentine Evenings has a woman to fit every occasion; for both public and private parties, charity events, and soirees. Your employer will be more than satisfied with our services. As a client he will have total confidentiality – but we do need to ask a few questions to determine what type of woman he wants for his date evening. Physical characteristics are a good place to start."

Jeeves listed off as though from a list, "He is fond of brown hair, I believe they are called 'brunettes'? He adores curly hair. He would prefer green or hazel eyes above all." More whispering in the background with Jeeves and his co-hort that Sarah couldn't make out, "Does he have a preference for cup size? Waist? Hips? Some of our clients are very -" Jeeves interrupted haughtily, "He would like a woman with a woman's body – not an anorexic twig. Bra and cup size matters not, but she must be intelligent and well-versed in polite topics and conversation in mixed company. It will be a royal event, after all, and offending other ranking royals would be a major faux pas. Oh, and she must be a believer in fairy tales."

Sarah chewed her lower lip. All of the girls at VE were quite conversational and understood polite society talk, but none of them had ever taken official deportment classes. This could be a problem.

"Sir, I believe I may have a couple women for your employer to choose from – I can email you their bios and pictures of each of them if you're interested, but I need to advise you that as much as I would like to lie and say we've served royal clients before, I cannot. Is this a problem? Will you trust our judgment to select candidates with as close experienceas possible to what you're asking?" _He was __seriously fruity bonkers if he thought these women would believe in fairy tales though,_ she snorted silently. But she would do her best to see to everything else in the wanted description.

A heavy sigh sounded from him as he relayed the information to his partner, "He is willing to see what you can come up with."

"Excellent! Now we just need a date and time for the event and I can narrow down the playing field." she breathed a sigh of relief. This was going to be a major coup for VE if she could pull it off! _One of her girls going to a Royal Ball. Fantastic!_

"He is looking to attend a masquerade ball the weekend of June 29th and 30th. Is this feasible?"

Sarah checked the calendar, "That's a week from now. Yes, that should be sufficient time to work something out. Would the client like to have the escort on site both days and nights?"

Jeeved again repeated the question to whomever was with him, and the bark of "Yes!" was relayed back to her. "Alright then, Jeeves, I have the documentation in the system of your employer's requirements, the necessary contract and bios will be sent to the email of your choice for your purvey." He rattled off an email address to which Sarah addressed and attached all documents with the standard letter form. "You may sign and fax this back to us as soon as you can, and please let me know your choice of the two women right away. Confidentiality is guaranteed. We accept payment in full and accept all major credit cards. Will that be all for this evening?"

A deep breath, "Yes – err … well, my employer would like to know if you have-," he stopped and exchanged a ,_"Why the hell don't you ask the dem girl yourself?"_ sounding less British and more Jersey for a moment, "Pardon me, Samantha. I have an unruly," he sounded like he was gritting his teeth, "companion this evening. That is all for now. We'll call again if we have further questions. Or email you directly. Good night." Jeeves, if that was really his name, rang off abruptly.

Sarah looked over the email and the wish list on her split screen thoughtfully. A potential plan was forming. She grinned mischievously. _Maybe she should add in herself as a contender, _she debated_. She was a good actress, and thanks to her step-mother Karen, she'd spent a summer during high school taking ettiquette classes. Hmm... she was the owner after all, and who said that she couldn't throw her hat in the ring. It would be a major coup for her – whether or not it was her or one of her gorgeous girls. If Jeeve's boss picked her, it would be her fault and no one else's if something got screwed up._

Before she could let the doubts crowd in, Sarah attached her own bio documentation with the others and hit the Send button. Then she did a happy dance in her chair, and nearly tipped it over.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Hi folks! I'm baaaaacckkk! :) Suspend your disbelief for a few chapters more... lol

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Time seemed to drag as Sarah awaited a response. The phones were quiet tonight which was fine with her; they could afford for things to be a bit slow right now.

Her thoughts returned to 'Jeeves' and her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Surely he wasn't just a crackpot calling to mess with her? Then again, it was shaping up to be that kind of day.

Jareth, the Goblin King, had hijacked her call to Hoggle and Yubs – just because he could, apparently. '_Asshole'_, she doodled on her deskpad calendar in red pen, her other hand holding up her head, her thoughts ajumble.

_Why? Why did he have to come back into my life like... like that? Why now? He's had years to torment me, but why today? It was enough that I could see him without the fear of him rejecting me. Then again, it's also very stalkerish of me to watch Jareth, unknown to him. _"It's just … not... fair," she sighed and squeezed her eyes shut to blot out the ache in her cracking heart.

_I should call him on the mirror;_ the thought came unbidden into her mind.

_Oh holy hell, no! Could I endure the embarrassment of him not even accepting a call from me? What if he just stood there and laughed at me?_ Sarah shuddered and blinked open her eyes. _Could I do it? Could I just call out to him and … and … what? Tell him what an ass he is? Ask him if he's thought about me at all? Gawd, how pathetic._

She knew nothing of his taste in women or in general – besides leather, glitter, a bit twisted, and anything below the waste that outlined the menace to women everywhere he hid in his pants – but she had hoped he would be... "I dunno... happy? To see me? Gah!" she groaned and scribbled out the little red hearts she'd drawn around the word _'Asshole'_. "Maybe he's a pedophile... or maybe... he's into guys." she muttered angrily.

Sarah took a deep, calming breath,"Get over it Sarah, he doesn't want to see you. He's not watching you like you stalk – err umm... _observe_ him." Wincing, she made a mental note to go to confession soon and could only imagine the Olivera Street Padre laughing his butt off.

_Forgive me Father, for I have sinned... it's been two years since my last confession and I've developed an unhealthy obsession with stalking a … man … who doesn't even want to see me. Oh yeah, and he lives in a magical world with goblins, fairies, elves, and tight breeches that make me swoon._ _And I want to lick him all over like a lollipop._ Yeah, that would go over so well.

"Tape up your heart and get back to work, Williams." _He'll never see you as a contender for his affections,_ was the rest of the unspoken scolding to herself. She ripped off the corner of the calendar that she'd doodled on, and wadded it up to throw in the trash. She didn't need next Sunday anyway. Maybe she'd be rubbing elbows with Royalty – minor, but still. She forced her thoughts to focus on the possibilities.

This potential client – Royalty, no less – who had the ability to give VE more prestige than just catering to businessmen, gave Sarah food for thought. Not that making their money off the random wealthy producer or director was a bad thing; but even minor Royalty could trump that. It could be the beginning of a whole new marketing strategy and openings doors that they hadn't been able to finesse with a crowbar before. The connections would be invaluable. She took down a notepad and pen and started writing down random thoughts to look into for the business if this minor Royal _was_ real and doors _did _open to VE. _Never hurts to be prepared_, she mused.

_Etiquette Lessons_

_Ballroom Dancing_

_Refresher classes in self-defense_

_Look into makeup classes again – DO NOT LEAVE Barbara Ann in charge of blush!_

Sarah underlined item number four several times all the way across the page and giggled. They'd all looked like heavily rouged kewpie dolls. She shook her head; sometimes, it was so hard being the boss when all she wanted to do was play dress up with Vonda and the ladies. Truly though, they needed her firm hand – well, they needed management's firm hand – to curtail other less legal and pleasant activities. Nothing could besmirch their name right now and Sarah and Vonda wanted to keep it that way.

Considering that VE was _the_ premier escort agency – well, as premier as you can get being in underground Hollywood – and they had worked hard to achieve their acclaim as responsible, respectable, private, and confidential. _Hard-fought, but won so far,_ she smiled sweetly at her list.

A loud PING! Sounded from her laptop, signaling email. Her heartbeat sped up in anticipation.

She slowly clicked to open the mail from Rey Enterprises.

_Madam,_

_My employer, J. G. Rey, would like to have the pleasure of Ms. Samantha during this coming weekend of the 29th and 30th. _

Sarah punched her fists in the air and let out a "Squeeee!" bouncing and rolling in her chair until it nearly toppled over – again – then she calmed a bit to look back at the computer screen, her heart thumping wildly as she read the rest of the email.

_Mr. Rey has already made reservations for a suite at the Park Plaza, consisting of two separate bedrooms – if that is acceptable. Per the contract that arrived in the earlier email, you stated for legal purposes that the Escort must have her own bedroom for overnight business. Would these accommodations be appropriate?_

_Also: Mr. Rey will expect for the lady to arrive on the evening of the 29th at seven pm sharp for the opening ceremonies. We understand the necessity of safety and so will agree to the limo for drop off and pick up. _

_Details are attached as to dress requirements for both the daytime and evening. __Mr. Rey would like Ms. Samantha to be outfitted properly by Madame Fay at La Costurera__ in Beverly Hills. The address is attached with all further instructions. An appointment has already been made for Ms. Samantha to meet with Mme. Fay tomorrow at 10am. Please see that she is prompt._

_Once we hear confirmation that the room is a non-issue, we will fax back the contract with the appropriate information._

_J._

Sarah fanned herself. "Oh my God! The Park Plaza? _Shit_, that place is expensive," she whispered and sat back in her chair, gripping the arms to keep her firmly in the present. "Oh crap, she murmured, "Now I'll have to take Stella up on her fashion makeover. This is going to be... interesting." She imagined herself tottering on four inch heels and groaned. This could be bad, _very bad_.

Wait, he said – she reread the part about being 'outfitted'. What the hell... it was a once in a lifetime Royal Ball, right? Let the client foot the bill. But seriously, how could this Madame Fay get her clothed in five days for a weekend away? Sarah mentally shrugged – _not her problem!_ - and added the trip to _La Costurera_ to her agenda tomorrow morning along with_ 'beg Stella for help'_, and _'find a fill in for Saturday and Sunday of next weekend'._

She pulled up the attached document showing the detailed information of the event. Grimacing she knew this would be a challenge – but oh so worth it.

Quickly, before she could stop herself she responded to Jeeves.

_Sir,_

_The suite with two bedrooms will be sufficient so long as they each have locking doors._

_Please expect Ms. Samantha no later than six fourty-five pm on the evening of the 29th. She has been advised of the scheduled fitting tomorrow morning at 10am with Mme. Fay, and so will be appropriately attired._

_Thank you for your business. If you have any further questions, please don't hesitate to contact us._

_VE Reservations_

She took a deep breath and tilted her head to the side, hitting 'Send'. This could either be a boon for her business, or one of the greatest mistakes of her life. She sent up a silent prayer for whatever Saint protected the stupidly optimistic.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: I didn't start out trying to make Sarah this neurotic – I swear. Lol Hope you guys get a few giggles out of this one. :) _

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Sarah had been too wired to sleep well when she climbed into bed this morning at four thirty. She was jittery from all the coffee she'd consumed after her three hours of restless dozing, and now stood in front of Madame Fay's.

She remembered to draw in breath as she took in the strange castle-like building attached to a humongous billboard depicting the giant silver, winged silhouette proclaiming, _"Casa de_ _La_ _Costurera ~ Making every occasion magical!"_. The winged figure seemed to draw her in with it's glitterific glow; the sun glinting off the sparkles.

W_hat the fuck? A fairy? Fairy Godmother? Noooo... That can't be right. _Her internal warning system went off with red flags waving violently like a hurricane was coming.

She took a few deep breaths; w_ell this is just weird. Maybe she's really good with a needle and thread and... Am I really that naïve? _She sighed and drew herself up;_ I can't go thinking every little bit of magic in this world has to do with_ him. _It's all wishful thinking,_ she bolstered herself.

Sarah refocused and closed the door to those other neurotic thoughts, for the moment and took in the rest of the building.

"_Dayum_...business must be good," she murmured as she looked her fill.

At least three stories tall, the building looked like relatively new construction with a lovely stained glass dome top, surrounded by four stone turrets and weathered stone walls. The entrance was true craftsmanship – scroll work with symbols thrown in in the archway – it looked like something out of Norm Abram's _New Yankee Workshop_ that her dad used to watch on PBS._ I've never seen a man so talented with wood_, she grinned.

As strange as it sounded the materials came together seamlessly in a simple, yet elegant design. She couldn't wait to get a view from the glass dome inside.

Revolving crystalline glass doors had been installed to bring the design into the present however, and she took a step towards them, but stopped, waging an inner war with herself. She clenched her fists by her sides.

_Can I really play at being callow? Can I talk myself into enjoying this experience without seeing his specter around every damn corner? Just because something has glitter – it doesn't mean it's _his_. _She took a deep breath and reminded herself; _Why would he choose_ you_ to harass if he couldn't stand to look at you? True, true, _she nodded.

_Either extreme desire or constipation caused that look that crossed his finely chiseled features, and dollface, let's face it: he could have his pick of any other woman in the worlds. He surely doesn't want lil ol' you, Sarah Williams, washed up actress and Madame of a – _Sarah bitch slapped her inner self to cut her off and set her shoulders back, head regally raised, and put her Doc Martens to the pavement. As she made her way through the doors, she felt a small chill wiggle down her spine upon entering the unfamiliar business.

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Nothing but white as far as the eye could see – except for the insubstantial iridescent rays from above an the people milling about randomly. The staff were dressed in silver tones that seemed to shine no matter which way they moved in the naturally lit room. Sarah looked up to view the beauty of the sun streaming through the stained glass dome within the tall building. Vague hues scattered to the floor, watered down from the colors above depicting breathtaking stylized blossoms upon a tree. She filed that away that information for later, seeing but not. _Weirdness number two_, she mentally kept track.

She made her way to the long curved desk boasting "_Reception_" and cleared her throat politely.

The ageless woman who had been looking under the reception desk looked up. Her soft white hair was pulled up into a sleek chignon; sparkling blue eyes were directed at Sarah in inquiry, "How may I help you, my dear?" This woman could have been twenty-four or four hundred-twenty-four, but her husky British tones hinted at youth. Her skin appeared opalescent; a fact that didn't escape Sarah. She forcibly blinked and made herself say, "I have a ten am appointment with Madame Fay; I'm Miss Samantha."

The receptionist picked up a dusty book and opened it to the day's date. She followed down the appointment line with her perfectly manicured nail. "Ahhh... I see. Miss Samantha from V. E.?" She arched her eyebrow and smiled conspiratorially with Sarah. "I will alert Madame. One moment."

The receptionist picked up the phone and announced quietly that Mme. Fay's ten o'clock had arrived to whomever was on the other end of the line. She gently placed the receiver down and smiled at Sarah, motioning for her to have a seat.

Sarah looked at the wall and noticed the chairs were white. White walls, white desks, white chairs, and holy hell... carpet!

_Someone seriously needs to bring a kid in here with crayons,_ she smirked_._

Sarah had turned around to wonder why someone would use white carpet in a high traffic location as she inspected it under her scuffed brown Docs, when she heard another voice.

"My dear Samantha! So nice to finally meet you. Mr. Rey has spoken so highly of you, my lady."

Sarah turned back to see a slim, raven-haired, gray-eyed woman bustle towards her, who was as tiny as – well shit, she was as short as a second and twice as quick apparently – and dressed in sparkling red robes with bell sleeves.

_'My lady'? Weirdness number three_, Sarah counted the quick and almost _magical_ arrival of the seamstress. _Only there hadn't been any glitter_, she snickered to herself.

"Ah... well, Mr. Rey is a kind person. Madame Fay, yes?" she held out her hand to shake the presumed tiny virago named Madame Fay who laughed suddenly and grasped her hand firmly. "Oh dear! You must not know him too well after all these years – that you should still call him 'kind' says as much. Yes, I am the highly regarded Madame Fay. Let's get started, shall we." And with that, the small woman with the sparkling gray eyes led her through a door to the left of the receptionist's desk.

She followed, smiling benignly and thinking Mr. Rey had given a fictionalized story of 'their past' to this woman and shrugged mentally. Whatever made it easier for the client.

They walked down a long white – again, what else? - corridor to a privately curtained area.

Sarah was led to a dais surrounded by mirrors. "Please Samantha, if I may call you that, stand upon the platform and I will be right with you."

Madame Fay clapped her hands twice and several women dressed in silver robes seemed to materialize out of the white walls and corners carrying tailor accessories, pins, tapes, notebooks, and pencils. For the next hour, the Madame worked her magic as Sarah stood as they told her to – raising arms, changing stance, tilting her head this way and that to check for eye color clashing against the fabric samples they brought to Madame.

By the end of the hour, Sarah had said not two words to any living being. She was a little stiff and really had to pee from all the coffee earlier. "Madame Fay?"

Fay had been looking down at a bolt of fabric and combining swatches to see the shiny affects. "Hmm, Starling? What can I get for you?" She snapped her fingers and sent off some staff with the fabric, pleased.

"Madame, I believe I need to... well, 'use the facilities'." Sarah made air quotes as her bladder rebelled, "Okay, dammit, I have to pee now or I'm going to lose it on this catwalk from hell. Has anyone ever told you how annoying it is to see fifteen different versions of yourself doing the potty dance?" She made her way down from the dais while Madame Fay laughed outright, "Dearest, the ladies' room is just there -" she pointed to a door next to their curtained space. "We'll resume your fittings when you're... unburdened." Madame smiled indulgently.

Five minutes and an empty bladder later, Sarah returned; "I'm sorry – I shouldn't have -"

Madame waived her apology away, "Think nothing of it. You've done very well this morning. And I much prefer honesty to the silence of vapidness. Mr. Rey is going to be pleased with the selection, I think." Madame's eyes twinkled merrily.

Madame moved to a tall pub style table that Sarah could have sworn wasn't there before – but then again, everything was that damn white and blended into itself. Upon the table lay swatches of fabric and sketches. "Come see what you'll be wearing, dear Samantha."

Cautiously, Sarah approached the table and gasped as she drew abreast of it. Sapphire, emerald, silver, and white shimmering fabric swatches gleamed in the light. The sketches showed ball gowns, day dresses, and … and owl? pattern design worked into a white velvet cape.

"It's beautiful! They're all …."

Madame Faye tinkled a laugh, "Fit for a Queen, eh?" she smiled a smug – but kind – smile and Sarah narrowed her eyes at the woman. _Weirdness number four_, she tallied.

"Well, yes, I suppose that's appropriate," Sarah began slowly, "seeing as Mr. Rey is royalty of some kind." she paused for effect and watched Madame's face closely. "_Minor_ royalty."

Madame grinned, "Of course. Mr. Rey is distantly related to some very powerful people, and he felt that your clothes should reflect his station and would add to your comfort in playing your part to keep him a ease." She started pinning the samples to the designs, packing up and clearing off the table. Sarah wondered how much this woman knew and the pieces she was putting together didn't make her comfortable.

"Wait! What about... this?" Sarah pointed to the white velvet owl design. She could have sworn that it was _him_ looking back at her. Dammit. Maybe she was really too paranoid.

Madame smiled and arched her eyebrow inquiringly, "Oh Starling, did you not read the invitation? The Sunday dinner is open to the public to support the Ojai Raptor Center– guests are asked to dress in attire that represents or shows Avian features. It's going to be fabulous! And you, my dearest, will be the highlight of dinner. I have a matching masquerade mask to go with it. See?" Madame Fay pulled out another piece of paper showing a beautiful feathered half mask. _Dammit again._

Sarah swallowed, hard. Of course she hadn't seen the invitation; she'd been sent a document by Jeeves detailing when and where the Ball would be held and how long she would be needed by Mr. Rey for the weekend. The dress code had been listed as well, but she didn't recall anything out of the ordinary. _Weirdness number five_, she whispered to herself. To Madame, "No, I guess I missed that. Oh boy!" she dredged up some false cheer and plastered a pained smile on her face.


	8. Chapter 8

_ Sorry so short... the next one is longer, promise!: ) Hope you all are continuing to enjoy... Read and Review por favor! Muchas gracias! :D_

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After confirming her shoe size with Mme. Fay and requesting that nothing be more than two inches high heel-wise, Sarah was advised by Mme's staff that her gowns and accessories would not require a final fitting before the cut; one gown would be brought to her office, while the rest would simply be sent to the suite. Sarah had blushed a bit – knowing that someone else knew she was sharing a suite with this man – and then drew herself up. _You're a professional, Williams. Chin up! Stowe the confusion and virginal blushes until you get home._

Sarah soon found herself back in her apartment, ruminating and snacking on Cheezits.

She felt like Winnie the Pooh when he would poke at his forehead saying "think, think, think!" She paced in front of the vanity and mirror in her bedroom, chewing obnoxiously loud – which showed how agitated she was. _Good thing she was out of wine_.

Had she really let Jareth into her head so far that she was _letting_ him mess with her without it being him? Essentially, wasn't she messing with her own head _for_ him?

"Okay, _really,_ you _do_ live in Hollyweird. Strange things happen everyday. You turned down a King when you were a teenager – and really, who knows if he truly wanted you, Sarah Williams to love and to cherish?" she sighed with disgust and glared at the mirror, "Moving on...You call friends on the mirror in your bedroom. Fast forward to present day; said King shut you down, you get a call from some guy named Jeeves, and wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am... you have a weekend date with Royalty. You go to this incredible place to have dress fittings done by this nice – but shiny, tiny, woman – and there's a billboard next to the building with a fairy announcing magical things can happen. _Then_ with the white owl cape... Think, Sarah, think. Does two and two equal five or four?"

She plopped onto her vanity chair, out of sorts, and stared unblinkingly at her reflection; her head held up by her hand smooshing her cheek and distorted her vision in that eye. An idea came to her and Sarah held onto her resolve with a mental death grip.

She quickly dragged a brush through her hair, patted on some more foundation and concealer for the slight purple beneath her eyes from lack of a good night's sleep. Slicking on some pink lip gloss, and a bit of eyeliner and mascara. _Might as well add some eye shadow. Get your game face on Williams,_ she prepared herself_. This could be a tough crowd._

Her jeans and green button up blouse she'd worn to Madame Fay's would have to do. She made sure her fly was buttoned and that her blouse buttons weren't mis-matched. Okay, she was ready.

Sarah closed her eyes tightly and whispered to the mirror, "Jareth, I need you."


	9. Chapter 9

_ My weekend update! I might have more on Sunday... we will see. :) R&R! (04/04/2012 - This has been updated and re-edited. Thanks!)_

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Friday night at 6:45 found Sarah in a daring strapless confection of the slinkiest, whisper-soft, silk-satin she'd ever seen in her life. Criss-crossing her breasts and flowing downward in a spiral of scarlet shades, she had never felt so exposed in her life. And yet, so absolutely desirable or bold. Her matching silver and scarlet 'opening festivities mask', as she thought to call it, was placed firmly atop her perfectly made up features, hiding her identity for better or worse.

After two days of "Returning to her Womanly Roots Academy" (name courtesy of Stella) with her dearest daytime receptionist Stella, Sarah had re-mastered the subtle application of full make-up, perfected the art of the push up bra, and re-styled her chocolate brown locks into a more manageable mane of glory. Details of course were attended to as necessary – eyebrow plucking, shaving, confirmation of the contractual agreements.

She was a woman with a mission – who despised high heels. But Stella had been insistent she practice walking in heeled shoes, boots, and wedges for the past 3 days. Sarah's feet ached, even now, as she stood silently and very still in her red silk two inch heels. She looked heavenward and sent a prayer of thanks that Madame Fay had in fact listened to her requests for comfort. The dress, overall, was like a beautiful waterfall – the color of Goblin red she admitted to herself – shades of darkly tinted scarlet that glimmered in the evening twilight.

She had been deposited at the entrance to the Park Plaza by the limousine service a few moments earlier, her personal bags for the weekend being brought to the suite she would be sharing with Mr. Rey, this very moment.

Sarah stood, a bit overwhelmed by the clean-lined Neo-Gothic stone building in front of her. Built in the early 1920's it bespoke of an elegance of days gone by; awesome stone angels adorned literally ever corner outside. The delicate Gothic archways and ornaments screaming this to be a Gothic Revival architecture gave her a sense of foreboding. The stone marquee above the fifty-some feet tall glass entrance wall that read, "All Things Whatsoever Ye Would That Men Should Do To you Do Ye Even So To Them" gave her pause also.

She shivered a bit - whether from trepidation or the very slight chill she didn't know. Her thin color-coordinated wrapper just enough to brush against the goosebumps forming on her upper arms. "This is what happens when you put your hair up," she grumbled,_ you lose all the warmth it contains_! Her intricate coiffure had been lightly sprayed as it sat in gently waving curls atop her head, spun through with a beautiful silver wire and crystals; Madame Fay had assured her _they were not real crystals after all _in the note sent with the dress yesterday evening.

"Oh I'm not so blind, you meddling old Madame," Sarah had said outright after gasping at the thousands of dollars worth of jewelry in her hands. "Insanity! Absolute _insanity_." The memory of the peach dream – her hair ornaments – flitted through her mind, similar and yet... not.

How much less paranoid she would be if she had been able to reach Jareth – or even Hoggle, or Ludo or Diddy, she couldn't say; she rubbed her arms to bring warmth, hunkering down a bit in her wrap. The air was growing cooler as the sun descended the horizon and her thoughts turned to the unheeded mirror communication of the past few days.

"_Jareth, I need you."_

It had taken all of her willpower to open her eyes and await his kingly presence. And then... nothing. She peered at her reflection and blinked owlishly to make sure she was really seeing what she was... well, _seeing_. Just herself. No one else. No locks of blond or jacket of leather with sparkles or crystals. Not even a dash of glitter. It was just – and _only_ – her reflection. _Dammit! _Just when she had plucked up the courage to reach out for answers, the man wouldn't or couldn't answer her summons.

Maybe the mirror was broken? "Hoggle, I need you!" she exclaimed, fearful and hopeful all at once.

She waited for the whorl of glimmer to shine on the surface, to magically show her friend. Nothing. Not a damn spark.

"Well, _shit," _she had replied to her reflection in horror, then stomped off screeching, "But that's not fair!"

She had tried to call upon Ludo and Diddy too, both to no avail. Sarah had repeated the process every afternoon for the past few days when she had time. The only thing that came to mind was that when Jareth closed the portal last time, he'd essentially left her mirror off the hook – so to speak, which was why she couldn't send out communique. _Damn that man,_ was her mantra until last night. She decided that she was going to psyche herself up for whatever her client needed – whether he be as she suspected in her fabulous paranoia, Jareth of the Well Hung Goblin Kings – or a regular human.

She was a professional by all means, and whomever had paid the ten thousand dollars for her weekend was in for a big surprise.

A gust of summer breeze gently flapped the gown around her ankles, wisps of hair floating around her face as she watched the other guests arriving by car and limousine. The gowns were beautiful – in every shade of the rainbow and the men's attire didn't disappoint either. Each person nodded to her as they passed in acknowledgement and continued on into the hotel, straight to the ballroom she assumed. Sarah had been instructed to wait within the portico on the velvet entrance bench. She checked her delicate and discreet silver filigreed watch; it was now 6:58, and sighed. _Time to start playing her part and earning her way; _she steeled herself and took a seat on the gilded bench, arranging her gown carefully so as not to crush it.

By the time she was at ease with her dress, she saw it to be 7:01 on the watch.

"He's late," she murmured, and leaned over carefully, to adjust the strap of her scarlet pump under her skirts.

A shadow fell across her as she was wrangling with it; she started out of momentary fright. And let her eyes wander slowly up from the tips of his toes – black knee high leather boots that seemed to be well-worn, up the breathtakingly_ tight _tights that had her blood humming the tune _"we're men, we're manly men, we're men in tights, _tight_ tights". _

Her heart almost sat up and begged as she noticed the spectacular black – not blue! - glittered frock coat with long formal tails, and the silken looking pristine white poet shirt that lay open at his throat, the ties undone the last few inches. She sat up fully, her spine straight as a board, to look into two mis-matched eyes – one cerulean blue, and the other brown as mud.

His black crystal encrusted mask covered his face from eyebrow to below his nose, but she would know those wicked, up-tilted eyebrows anywhere. His hair, while still long and a bit wild, was tied back in some sort of queue from what she could ascertain.

She drew in a breath and waited for the passwords they had agreed upon. Normally, a phrase was agreed upon - of the client's choosing. The escort generally knew the second half of the phrase - as was the case here. But now she understood why _her client_ had chosen the quote that he did.

"My dear lady," he offered his hand, "Has no one told you to keep your friends close..." His voice seemed deeper, smoother, and just as proper British as ever. She had the overwhelming urge to tell him, 'Bugger off, ye git! Eejit!' - but alas, she swallowed the anger and paranoia down to confront the fact: _Fuckin' A it was _HIM.

She sighed mentally and gathered all her strength and wits about her to respond with a whispered, "...And your enemies closer," upon which, she placed her manicured hand within his and felt the stars align and sparks throughout her nervous system.

_This weekend would be heaven and be pure hell rolled together with a bit of chipotle pepper on top, _she decided. She promised herself one thing though: her mission _would_ be completed.

Little did she know how well Jareth agreed with her internal sentiments.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Hello you lovely folks! Thanks for adding this as a Favorite and also for the Story Alert-ing. I would have had this updated earlier, but it's that time of year … Elementary Science Fair for my oldest daughter and we had to put in an appearance and cheer her on. :) (She did research on different Vinegars and the pickles they can make... ya know... if anyone's interested. lol)_

_And... I'm sure you Labyrinth die-hards know this... but the Park Plaza in Los Angeles really **does ** host **The Labyrinth of Jareth** **Masquerade Ball ** and has done so for several years from my research._

_Also: Rey = King in Spanish. I almost made his alter-ego "del Reyes" = of the Kings, but thought that would be too much._

_Finally: Anyone else who has an eReader and loves to read FanFic: _

_Did you know about www . Flagfic . Com ? Amazingly easy to use and convert into ePub format (works best for my Nook) and move over to my device. Just an FYI. :)_

_And... onto the next chapter!_

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"Never in a million years did I ever think that I would be this close to your cock," Sarah grimaced, "and yet, it's not quite close enough. Gawd, how do I get myself into these situations?" she groaned and kept her hands discretely pushing down on the ice bag that covered his groin. Must...not...grope, she reminded herself, gently flexing her hands in an almost-massage. Must...not...fall...under...his...spell. Remember why you're pissed off and you kneed him in the nards again, Williams!

She mentally pulled up the file showing the last half hour.

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"You are a vision in that color, my lady. Truly...memorable." Sarah hadn't responded; she couldn't respond; her crimson-painted lips still slightly parted.

The beautiful man casually offered his hand to her and bowed over her hand, turning it over gently to place a tender kiss on her palm. It nearly undid her. Her world tilted on its axis as the breath had whooshed from her lungs and she had sputtered, "I don't think that's in the contract, _Mister Rey._"

Mister Rey smirked and replied with a sardonic, "My precious girl, touching is allowed – albeit not of a sexual nature. True? Does my touch affect you to such an extent you fear to rip my clothes from my body?"

She snatched her hand back and hastily stood without his help; she postured regally and sniffed disdainfully, "As if _you_ of all people could -" she paused, "I am ready to enter the building and begin the weekend, _Mister Rey_. Shall we?" _Keep your calm Sarah,_ she reminded herself. _Treat him like any __client._

Unbidden, she remembered how she had treated all the other clients – as if they were Jareth. Intellectually teasing and sensually tormenting each man subtly, until they were willing to rip up the escort agreement and tumble her; that had been her way of getting back at Jareth – by imagining every man was him and gaining revenge of a fashion, in making those men want her.

She blushed, then paled. _Ohhhh fuuuucck... she was in trouble. _

He sighed in amused defeat – for the moment anyway, "Yes, of course my lady." His eyes sparkled with repressed mirth, one side of his lips up-tilted to match his insane eyebrows. "Allow me." Jareth took her elbow and guided her through the glass-walled entrance. Her silken scarlet skirts flowing gracefully with each step.

People in every costume imaginable in every color, shape, and style were visible as far as the eye could see. _A sea of fantasy_, she thought and allowed Jareth to guide her closer to his body as they made their way across the large parquet floor foyer and over to the entrance of the first ballroom where he stopped to gesture to the placard on the easel, "I thought it was fitting our ten year anniversary be commemorated properly, my precious _Samantha._" Sarah gulped audibly, her throat a dry desert as she read the placard on the easel proclaiming, "_Fantasy Weekend: Labyrinth of Jareth, Masquerade Ball ~Two Amazing Nights within the Royal Court_" with details of the opening ceremony listed below.

Sarah mentally smacked her forehead and willed her jelly-filled knees to keep holding her steady. She had quite literally, walked into the lion's den.

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Jareth kept a firm grip on her elbow as she closed her eyes and hung her head, her breath coming shallowly. The ballroom doors were suddenly flung open wide, ushers on either side of the main doors held back the crowd. There were a few gaily dressed couples in front of them; Jareth jostled them in his haste to make sure his companion was able to view the splendor he'd created in her honor.

She felt the need to rub her her eyes to make sure she was really _seeing_ what she saw when she was able to peak within.

Sarah's strangled gasp made her companion grin down at her ferally. The mask couldn't contain what she interpreted as malicious glee radiating from his mismatched eyes. She met his gaze, then returned to looking at the transformed ballroom in horror.

"Oh gawd... _you didn't_!" Oh but yes, he _had_. Chandeliers that dripped crystals in swirls cascading down from the high ceilings; pillars were randomly placed around the giant ballroom; swaths of heavenly glittered fabric draped the entire room in a silken cocoon, heightening her nostalgia. Chairs and tables of what appeared to be white wrought iron were covered in elegant white tablecloths scattered throughout the large room. A profusion of flowers in pinks and yellows were liberally sprinkled at each table. The lighting was intimate, just as the Peach fantasy had been.

Jareth stepped in front of the queue of couples and took Sarah's arm fully. Her nervous system just about shut down realizing that after all these damn years, he was touching her, holding her arm – no, wait, now he was holding her hands and leading her into the room while others, held back by the ushers, watched them curiously.

She was amazed by the trouble he'd gone through to recreate what must have been so stupid and silly to him. They had been, after all, fantasies influenced by her romantic teenage heart. And really, what man wants to deal with that. She dug her heels into the parquet floor and forced him to release her hands. "Stop. Just stop, Jareth!" Sarah rubbed her forehead and looked into his hurt eyes –_ hurt? Pfftt _- "What do you want from me? You're up to something, Mister Rey, and I warn you, I am ten times more clever now than I was as a child." She balled up her fists at her sides as she watched the uninhibited grin spread slowly across his face.

"Ah, but precious thing -"

"I am _not_ a thing – I'm a woman! Hear me roar dammit!"

He chuckled and circled her – just as he had that last time when the Escher room had fallen to pieces, "Temper, temper oh dearest Sarah, I've been watching you … as those guests over there are watching us now. This is not the place to discuss _what I want_. Later, perhaps." He held out his hand, waiting for her to take it.

"I don't trust you Jareth. Are you going to fatten me up and eat me later? Or just get me drunk and take advantage? You may as well tell me now. Seriously, look at me!" She motioned to the beautiful gown and elaborately done hair. "I dressed up tonight for a client – and I get you! But all this time I thought I was paranoid – you were making me that way, not myself!" She spun around as if to walk away, thoroughly riled up, but decided against it and returned to face him. "And Madame Fay? I'm not an idiot – Fairy Godmother my ass! She served me up on a silver platter to you!" Sarah crossed her arms, glaring up at him, "But why? Revenge? And why did you hang up on me? I think you broke my mirror! You... you..._ jackhole!_" she sputtered out, seething.

Jareth, to his great misfortune, was laughing at the neurotic monologue spewing forth from Sarah's perfectly shaped lips. He continued to grin and guffaw rather unattractively until she stepped closer to his royal tight-pantedness, taking his hand roughly; they moved to stand chest to chest. She could feel the warmth radiating from his lithe form, smell the intoxicating woodsy and dark scents that were Jareth. He caught his breath and squeezed her hand, smirking, "Jareth, the Goblin King, spreading paranoia since nineteen-eighty-six."

"I'm not a little girl anymore, Jareth."

"Of course you aren't precious. I can tell by how you act," he patronized with an arched brow.

Sarah's expression took on a calculating look; she raised her arms up to his shoulders and whispered for him to bend his head down – he was still a head taller despite her having grown an extra six inches in her teens. His surprise was quickly hid and he complied, bringing her lips level with his ear. _Dumb boy, he thought he'd won..._

"You want to laugh at me? Won't answer my questions? I bet I can make _you_ cry like a little girl, oh mighty Goblin King," she whispered seductively. He was still trying to process what exactly she'd said when he felt her hands grasp his shoulders tight, and slammed her knee up into his groin area, _hard_.

He let out a high pitched scream of pain, grabbing his crotch, and wilted to the hard wooden floor into the fetal position – witnessed by the other guests, still waiting for entrance by the ballroom doors.

Sarah's triumphant smile and her arms crossed over her ample breasts said it all to him; she watched his body writhe upon the floor, his eyes bugged from their sockets a bit, his mouth emitting soundless screams.

"It's on like Donkey Kong, you great ass," she smirked and went to exit the ballroom, her scarlet skirts billowing behind her. _And maybe get him some assistance, because, ya know, he might need it._


	11. Chapter 11

_Guys & Dolls, you're the best readers and reviewers! I hope you're enjoying my little take on this somewhat OOC relationship... I mean, really, I've been asking you to suspend your disbelief for ages now anyway. ;D Happy Birthday to me (4/6)! Everyone make it a fantastic Friday. :)_

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And so now, Sarah sat, tending the man she had crushed on during her teen years, and to some degree still had a tendre for.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, while he lay sprawled spread eagle over most of it. His frock coat had been removed by herself and the bellhop who'd assisted in getting him to their suite after he passed out from the sedatives; of course, he had to be sedated _before_ he could be moved. _Talk about a whiny bitch – you'd think no one had ever gone for the family jewels before! _

She would have thought it an occupational hazard at the very least... stealing kids; pissed off parents and all.

Honestly, she hadn't intended to assault him earlier. Emotions were running high from being wound up so tightly. Sarah's head and heart were at war; and her professionalism as an escort had been thrown out the window half an hour ago.

_Yeah, you really showed him. Have a temper tantrum like a four year old, and put him out of commission.__Sarah, when will you ever learn?_

She removed herself from the bed, gingerly, so as not to disturb her drugged up companion; and then she started pacing at the foot of the bed, thinking. The thick pile of the carpet nearly tripped her in those deadly two inch heels; she debated taking them off but decided against it.

Her plan of being a cool and collected professional was yesterday's garbage. She owed him an apology – of a sort. He was still a condescending ass, but she had been spying on him and his body parts for more than a year. She was not blameless for the anxious state she was in; but he wasn't helping matters any by hiring her under false names. "Git," she stopped her militant pacing to scold Jareth softly, standing guard over his person. Sarah had divested herself of the mask upon entering the suite she would be sharing with this man; Jareth's had fallen off when he toppled to the floor in pain. He was still the most beautiful creature to her. His pale silken poet shirt contrasting with his lovely tights. Soft, luxurious tights, that she had touched personally – to get him to the bed, only, of course. If her hands had lingered a bit too long on his taut, round buttocks as she maneuvered him... well, he wasn't awake to feel it.

"Thank goodness they had a doctor on-call. I'm sure they'll wear off soon enough though," Sarah murmured to no one. She looked over at the bottle left on the nightstand by the kindly elderly physician, debating briefly to dose Jareth continuously to make it through the rest of the weekend. _Just dissolve a pill in a little warm water_ Sarah shook her head in regret as she grinned evilly; no, _he may fuck with my mind, but I need to know why he's here and what he truly wants. And apologize to him, _right_._

She moved back to sit beside him on the silver duvet, one of her legs dangling restlessly off the side. _Probably time to rotate the ice bag around, gotta make sure it's still cold enough to help with the swelling,_ she winced_. _

Her dress whispering against the bedspread as she moved, Sarah carefully shook the ice bag to move the ice within and placed it cautiously back on his groin, pushing gently down to mold it to the offended organ.

_Don't grab it... don't touch it... leave the snake alone, _Sarah she chastised herself and moved to sit back.

Sighing, she drew a hand down her face, noticing her hair had started to unravel from its elegant up-do._ I'm sure all the crystals are still in there though. Magically, of course. Wouldn't want to cost Jareth __anymore money this weekend; who really pays ten thousand to the woman who rejected him as a child – for the flippin' weekend?_ She sighed again, "This is going to be a very long two days."

She drew her gaze up from his crotch to the open 'v' of his pale, sculpted chest, and further up to his relaxed features. _Hmm... not a hairy kinda guy. Good to know,_ she made mental note.

At least he didn't look so weary and tired now; a crease of pain sat on his forehead – her doing, she knew. Sarah moved closer to look at his face, her torso still twisted towards him, comfortably hanging a leg over the edge of the bed.

His strange eyebrows begged to be traced. Her index finger itched to follow the tilt of the dark blond hair and glittering silver slash. His lips were still just as thin and cruel as ever, but it didn't stop her from wondering what they would taste like against her own. "Sweet or tart?" she murmured to herself.

She used her other hand to brush away a few stray white-blond strands from his cheek and felt singed as she accidentally touched his pale skin.

_Dammit,_ she sucked in a breath; _why does he have to be so attractive? He's not conventionally 'hot'_; she tilted her head to the side, _but he's handsome in that blonde-big-bad-wolf-way. _She chuckled aloud and murmured, "I was only half joking when I asked if you would eat me," and then blushed and alternately paled when Jareth's guttural voice responded with, "As the lady wishes."

She was pinned for a moment by the devilish look in his eyes. Until she fell off the side of the bed.

Sarah, in all her silken elegance, became tangled in her dress in her haste to scramble back and away from him; she promptly slid from the bed onto the floor with a loud "_Ooomph!_"; her face flushed and her heart jackhammering out an irregular beat;"Uhh...I think we need to talk," her voice coming from the floor.

Jareth moved to sit up so he could see where she'd disappeared to, and winced. His long fingers clasping the ice bag currently residing on his swollen genitals. He flopped back with a groan, throwing an arm over his face.

"Sarah -" he was interrupted by her muffled, "I'm sorry, Jareth."

"You're apologizing," he stated and paused, "for what exactly?"

Again muffled and a bit defiant, "For 'stomping on the boys', as my friend Stella says."

He attempted a chuckle but it turned into a groan of discomfort, "Yes, that would be an apt description – well it was less stomping and more bulldozing."

"It was pretty good, wasn't it? Direct hit and all," Some pride in her voice.

"I... ah... Yes, it was grand. _Fucking fantastic_. Anything _else_ to include in the apology? And how did we get here?" Annoyance colored his words, he turned his head to see if he could see the top of her head from his viewpoint.

"Are _you_ alright?" he inquired politely, "One would think I am still so frightening to you." A sneer laced the last.

Silence from the floor next to the side of the bed.

"Well?" Concern.

"No, I mean yes, I'm fine. Anything else? Umm... n-o-ooo I don't think so. And the bellhop helped me get you up here. We kinda... sedated you – there was a doctor involved! - and put you on a bellcart." Sarah shrugged but still, thought over the past week – the past year or more of spying on him in the mirror and felt a bit guilty. But really, unless he had a way or reason to trace her mirror communications, he wouldn't have any idea. "I think I'm good."

A frustrated sigh, "Sarah Williams, you will never cease to try my patience -"

Her brunette updo and her eyes peeked above the comforter as she spat out, "You hung up on me! And... and... you," she rose a bit further so he could now see her scarlet silk clothed chest, "you lied to me! Pretending to be someone else." Her green eyes blazed in trepidation, "We have history – not very pleasant history as it is! - and I-" Sarah plopped back to the floor in her sea of skirts, and sniffed.

"Gods, don't tell me you're _crying_!" he growled and rolled onto his stomach near the edge where he could look down at her form surrounded by waves of silky satin. Her head was bowed; he hair looked bedraggled.

A loud wet, sniff, "It's just a lot to take in."

"I didn't mean to make you cry, precious th-," Sarah looked up to glare at him through the tears she held in check.

"Hell! _I'm_ apologizing to _you_ when I'm the one who was accosted!" he burst out.

She gave a half smile and wiped at a tear that had escaped down her cheek, "I _am_ sorry for hurting you. But you were laughing at me as if I was still that silly girl. I haven't been her for many years, Jareth. And the paranoia you've brought to my life... let's just say it was all too much at once."

He reached out a hand to trace the tear track through her make up and whispered, "I know. To my great chagrin, I was unprepared to face you that day, but knew I had to."

"The day I called Hoggle and Yubs?" At his touch, a shiver worked its way down her spine.

"Yes."

"Why? Why face me at all?" curious, eyes wide.

"I said before, it's our ten year anniversary."

A look of disbelief, "And you return to all your Labyrinth Champions to celebrate their decade anniversary?"

He closed his eyes and brought back his had to hold up his head, sighing into a smirk, "Yes, I do."

Sarah stiffened, "Oh, I see. I get it." Her voice had grown cold; "It was all a test from beginning to end anyways. How many are there?" she spat.

His eyes popped open immediately, guilelessly. "Only you, Sarah Williams, my precious woman. And not all was a test. There were truths throughout that you chose to ignore."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Thanks again to all the well-wishers for my birthday. :) I forgot Sunday was Easter... so I didn't have a chance to update. Y' know that it's Mom's job to play the Easter Bunny, right? *rolls eyes* ;)**

**Enjoy! And thanks for staying with these two crazy OOC kids. ;)**

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She shook her head, confused; "It was so long ago to me. And I couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't." Her brows drew together, green eyes thoughtful. Of course, she didn't mention how she had hated the circumstances, but would have loved to taken what he offered back then. But she hadn't; she'd put things to rights, denounced what he offered, and known there could not have been any other acceptable resolution – at that time.

"I offered you your dreams. That was real enough," he returned with a husky voice.

"But I had to save Toby; he needed me. It was my fault he was there. It was all my fault," she admitted with sadness coloring the words.

"True, but if I hadn't given you the power-" he looked away, sheepish. "I used to watch you at the park when you would recite plays and poems. Such power in words."

Both sat; Sarah looking down at the disheveled scarlet skirts and so very quiet, considering their previous thirteen hour association –ten years ago. Jareth lounging on the bed, rolled over to his stomach – the ice bag underneath his aching balls – watching the lady in red with his chin resting on the silver duvet.

Sarah broke the momentary silence by peering up at him in unease, "You _watched_ me? I was _fifteen_, you dirty old man!" she smacked at his arm that had reached out earlier.

Jareth drew back. "Ow! Injured party, here? See?" He pulled out the ice bag from under his crotch and winced again at the sudden movement. "And besides, I'm only three hundred and twenty something..." he smirked at her.

"What? Why do I care how old you are? You're freakin' ancient!" Sarah untangled the fabric from her heels and legs, attempting to stand. She finally found her footing and stood over Jareth as she shook out the rest of the slinky fabric, picking off imaginary lint from the folds.

"Then you must be a pervert if I'm a 'dirty old man', as you put it. Watching some _old, elderly man_. Because _you've_ been spying on _me_ the last year!" He sneered and rose up on the bed, capable of towering over her though he was only kneeling.

She huffed and puffed, feeling her face redden, "Well you... you.. It was the wine!" Looking so closely into his eyes had a disturbing effect on her. Then again, she had been spying on him long enough to know that even observing him revved her libido these days. _Let's just hope he doesn't know about the cock requests._

"Wine, you say?" Jareth crossed his arms against his chest, a sensuous smirk with a raised eyebrow that reminded her of the first time she'd seen him in all his glittery and leathery glory.

Sarah ran a hand down her face and nearly screamed with frustration.

"Wine! Yes! I drank too much and... and got stupid. Things happened. Sorry. You happy now? At least I wasn't watching some teenage boy and falling in love with him!"she snapped and made to move away.

Jareth placed a hand on her bare shoulder which brought her up short. Goosebumps immediately formed and her skin felt like it was on fire with sparks, lots of sparks. He drew her close to him so they were chest to chest as he was still kneeling on the bed.

"You must have been drinking an awful lot to ask to observe me so often. And really, let's be honest here," he sneered, "were you really so desperate to view an exceptional representation of the male form? Or did you just want what you can't have?" He pulled out pins from her disarrayed coiffure and proceeded to massage her scalp, holding her in thrall. He gazed unblinkingly into her eyes; she felt the vibrations of his rough tenor throughout her body and trembled, not paying attention to the words.

Jareth took a hand to palm her cheek, moving his fingertips to caress to her ear slowly, sensuously, as he moved in to taste the lips he'd been waiting for. He gently grasped the hair at her nape to force her head up, exposing her neck. Swooping in, he closed his eyes as his lips sensually glided down her exposed neck, burning a trail of fire. Sarah swore she saw glitter motes dancing around them – literally.

He stopped suddenly, their breathing both a bit harsh, and pulled back to look into her half-lidded eyes. "I've been waiting for this for ten years, Sarah Williams." And with that, he placed a chaste kiss on Sarah's parted lips, ever so lightly. Their eyelids fell as if in accord and he moved to nip her bottom lip. A hushed groan came from someone.

Sarah was going up in flames and dammit, it wasn't hot enough yet. She needed more. Now. Taking control, Sarah flicked her tongue out to taste his. _Mmmm...sweet... like candied pears_; she moaned aloud and moved her arms up and around his neck, pulling him closer.

_I'm_ g_iving him the 'Bring it, Baby' sign, _she mused and gave herself up to the moment. In the back of her mind, a little voice was trying to cry out,_ 'Hey, idiot! He just taunted you – and now he sounds like he wants revenge. Yo! Dumbass!' _Sarah quickly gagged the little voice and threatened it with expulsion from her psyche if it tried to intervene again in the next few minutes. She just wanted a taste of this man – this being – and then she could get right back to business. Right? _Absolutely,_ her devil answered in place of the irritating voice of caution.

Sealing her lips to his own that were now plundering hers, she grabbed the silky tresses at the back of his neck and practically lost her balance. As she moved to pull down the strands tied back in a queue, the whole head of Jareth moved.

Sarah jumped back at his small cry of alarm, "OhmygodI'msosorry!" And then she saw it.

Jareth's eyes that had been passion glazed were now a bit wide-eyed with an 'oh shit she saw it' look as his hands felt around his mop of white blind hair that had been perfectly styled. His face had paled – _which considering how freakin' pasty he had been before was a miracle, _she thought_._ Now, it was essentially half off his head; the skull cap holding the style in place had slipped with Sarah's passionate tug to get closer.

She brought her hands up to her mouth in horror. _Oh no, no no... this couldn't be_. But it was. Underneath the skull cap tightly bound with a netting was a darker shade of blond hair, obviously much shorter, streaked with pure grey.

Jareth, the Goblin King _wore a wig_.

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**And yes, I've been intending his hair to be not his own from the beginning. lol There was originally a scene with them making out on the couch ensuite and Sarah was knocked off, and grabbed the queue at the nape of his neck without thinking... and that's how she found out. But I decided to go with this way. I can't promise that their hijinks won't eventually have them both displaced and on the floor eventually though. ;)**


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Hi everyone! Happy Mother's Day to anyone it applies to. lol So... uhh... April was a HUGELY busy month for us with all the birthdays (like 5), anniversaries (3), and what nots (like 12 - don't ask). With summer right around the corner, I don't know how much time I'll have to update here, but keep in mind, I have it all in here *points to brain and nods* and in a doc file, so I'll do my best to update at least once every 10 days if nothing else. I'm thinking another 6 chappies or so. We shall see. Anywhoo... thanks for stickin' with me. I love reviews - good, bad, ugly, or fugly! :D_

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_This night just got better and better,_ Sarah groaned inwardly. And it'd only been an hour and a half since he'd met her at the hotel entrance. _Well, there goes my fantasies of running my hands through his silky angular locks, _she smirked_. _

_Seriously, though...what the fuck? Had his hair always been a wig?_ She pondered questions and discarded the idea of asking the rudest ones.

"So uhh... that's not your hair. Wow. And since when do Fae go grey?" Her voice came out breathy and seductive. She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms against her heaving chest. _His kisses could totally throw her off her game, she decided. Sweet, silky, and sinful._

Jareth pulled off the wig entirely; his skin now flushed – with anger or embarrassment she guessed – and threw it on the floor. He rose from the bed gingerly, still aching from the earlier contact with his balls and her knee. Pulling up to his full six foot plus height, his eyes coldly bore into hers with intent.

He glared at her décolletage with interest for a moment, then his gaze focused on her face once again. His voice low, clipped, and very sexy upper class Brit as he spat, "A simple costume malfunction, I assure you. Should you like to see the real hair?"

Sarah quietly nodded, shifting her crossed arms under her breasts, a bit uncomfortable and wholly uncertain.

"Take it off, _pervert_." He motioned to the hair net and brought himself closer for her to reach the silver strings criss-crossed against his hair.

"Sure thing, _dirty old man_," she retorted deadpan.

She moved as he bowed his head so she could reach and tugged off the offensive netting- darting her hand out to grasp it and pulling it back swiftly. His real hair sprung free in a wild disarray of blond and silver – not grey; it was glittery silver! - and Sarah could only gasp.

"OhmyGod, you look like a short-haired Troll doll!" Belatedly she realized he probably wouldn't get the reference.

His face became thunderous; "Troll? You compare me to a troll!"

"It's a toy – it has hair that stands up all crazy and- nevermind!" She quickly shut up when it was apparent she was digging herself in deeper. _Apparently he was a little sensitive about his hair and trolls, probably in that order. _Sarah smothered a smile.

"Are you finding this _funny_, Sarah Williams?" he snarked, his eyes gleaming with annoyance.

Sarah reached up to smooth back a tuft over his pointed ear; he caught her hand in his; she winced and looked away. Her hand tingled, sending shivers to the rest of her nervous system. Her heartbeat sped up; he was holding her hand and she couldn't even look at him. "Pathetic!" she mumbled to herself.

Jareth's eyes grew large. "I'm pathetic?" he growled, truly on the edge of losing control.

Sarah swung her body to force him to release her hand and sighed. "No, _I'm_ pathetic. My childhood crush wears a wig, and some of my illusions have been shattered – and yet, I still want to touch you. See? Pathetic." She moved a few feet away from where he stood, then turned once again to face him. "You are still incredibly attractive, and a dirty old man, but wow... those tights. They tend to make a girl lose focus," she licked her lips and brought her eyes back to focus on his shocked face.

"Admit to fancying me, do you?" He circled her; she grew nervous as he whispered in her ear, "I know a secret of yours, Precious."

Jareth proceeded to grasp the neckline of her scarlet bodice with one hand; she squeaked, "Hey!" but didn't stop him as he slowly delved with his index and second finger between her breasts, searching.

Sarah couldn't move as the sparks of awareness skittered across her sensitive skin.

_The Goblin King has his hand down my dress!_ kept flashing in pink neon lights within her stunned brain. She felt his fingers brush the underside of a breast and practically purred. Cool air hit her skin and she tried to fight her way back to sanity.

"Uhh... what are you doing?_ Excuse yo_- _Oh_!"

Jareth had found what he was looking for; his triumphant smoldering smile highlighting his pointy teeth as he slowly tortured her by pulling out a linen handkerchief from her bodice.

Slightly scratchy to her tender skin, it slid seductively against her smooth skin, pinpricks of pleasure made her gasp when it tugged on around and over her already distended nipple. The rough weave against her sensitive breasts stoking a fire low in her belly. Sarah bit her lower lip and tried to stifle her moan; closing her eyes, she had to grasp Jareth's arms for support to keep upright.

His wicked smile went unseen as he divested her of the first off-white handkerchief tossing it to the floor, and returned to her bodice with his warm, masculine hands again. His fingers playing on the undersides of both breasts now, searching out the other padding Sarah had used.

He bent his head to bring his lips to her ear as she clung to him. "How many are there, love? And why would you ever think you have to pad your bosom?" His whisper was low and sultry. He nibbled her earlobe gently. Still, they stood, although Jareth had backed her against one of the bedroom walls for support.

Sarah shuddered, "S-six of th... em...oh_ gawd_..." Jareth's fingers were slowly drawing out the next linen scrap, toying with her by swirling it around her breast; the aureole and the nipple the last circled before he tugged it gently from her scarlet bodice. She inhaled sharply as her fingers contracted on his arms, her body humming with desire.

_So many nights when all I've wanted was him... and here he is... touching me... tormenting me... wow, he's good at this shit_, Sarah mused and moved into his skillful fingers without thought. The tension in her belly was coiling, coiling tighter and tighter. She felt like her breasts were on fire as he returned to them, caressing and tweaking her nipples between his fingers; a flick and a tug here and there kept her squirming and wanting. _It was so good, but it wasn't enough. She wanted more, dammit!_

He flung offender number two to the ground and moved on to linen squares three, four, and five. Each successive handkerchief's removal elicited a low groan of pleasure and a shuddering breath –_ or ten _– as the heat and wet built within Sarah. _Oh yeah, I'm ready, but this is wrong, so so very very wrong, _she reminded herself._ I'm_ _supposed to be treating him as a client – and screwing Jareth is totally against the rules. Okay, I can do this, I can play it off cool and he'll take out the last one and then... a kiss. I just want one last kiss for the rest of the weekend, _she promised herself_. Just _one_ kiss. _

Jareth was breathing harshly; his chest rapidly rising and falling as his dilated eyes took in the flushed countenance and décolletage of Sarah, who was having just as difficult a time breathing evenly herself.

Sarah was perspiring from the onslaught of his sensual attention; her eyes were glazed over with need, barely able to stay open. He bent his head to her again, this time to align their lips. His tongue reached out to trace her lower lip, so petal soft, as his fingers started their terrible magic again of the tugging and tweaking, pulling and pinching on her nipple.

Sarah flowed forward into Jareth's body, her lips fusing of their own accord to his, her pelvis seeking out his straining erection. The kiss wasn't pretty; it was brutally honest in it's horny want and need. It was the deepest and darkest sexual sight as they sucked and lick, bit and meshed lips over and over again in the need to become one with their mouths. Sarah's keening cry as he manipulated her nipple roughly made him whip out the last offending handkerchief and start to shove her bodice down.

"Wait!" She huffed, trying to pull it back up and away from his greedy hands.

"What?"He puffed, still trying to strip the scarlet gown from her rosy skin.

She held her hand up and kept dragging in air, "I think... I think we should stop. Now. Things got out of control -" Sarah waved her hand around in dismissal, " - and no matter what, you're my client. I can't sleep with you."_ Until after this weekend is over_, she continued in her own mind.

His pale face and carved features topped with his troll-doll hair all turned a bit thunderous; his eyes narrowed, "That didn't seem to bother you -" He clenched his fists at his sides. A vein pounded in his forehead dangerously.

"Hey, wait just a minute there bucko, _you_ were the one who decided to start pulling my grandmother's handkerchiefs from under my breasts. You _totally_ started this!" Half-righteous indignation filtered through as stood akimbo, having re-situated her dress on her person.

"Well I'd better finish it then." His wicked smile sped up her pulse.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Howdy folks! Summer is upon us and the kidlets are roaming around the house - this translates to less writing time and more chasing said kidlets. In other news: I think I might need a beta... anyone interested? This story has taken an unusual turn for me. Yeah, OOC, blah blah blah... but now, they're slumming it in this chapter. Trust me, as much as I used to LOVE the bacon and cheese potato wedges... they're slumming it. lol As usual, enjoy... Read, review, and torch me ...err PM me, I mean, with good ideas... constructive criticism... ya know, the good stuff. Muah! :D

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Jareth licked his lips and dove towards her.

Sarah briefly panicked as she blinked owlishly; _think, think! Client clause isn't enough for him and I really can't afford to lose my business. Oh but those lips... and that large, lovely cock to grind into. Shite, think Sarah!_

An out presented itself in the form of his crotch – as usual.

_Oh God forgive me..._

"_Shite!" _he screeched in falsetto, curled in on himself. Jareth lay in his fallen glittery glory on the floor once again, in the fetal position. He was shaking from the pain inflicted on his groin – again."Woman, just say '_no_' next time instead of manhandling me," he whispered painfully with his eyes closed, arms wrapped around himself.

Sarah kneeled over him, once again adjusting her bodice by pulling it up as far as it would go; "I _did_ say no, _your highness_. I only tapped your junk again to slow you down – not permanently damage you!" she huffed, and stood. "You're being a baby. Get up. I didn't knee you _that _hard this time." Sarah nudged at his prone body with her foot. "C'mon, Goblin King."

Jareth debated whether to squeeze out some 'crocodile tears' as humans called them. He wanted her sympathy, he wanted her lust, her desire for him to burn out of control – as his had for her. But this woman, this Sarah Williams, was so different than what he had expected. She was no longer some malleable, foolish girl. She would stand up to him, stalk him and turn around to reject him, but still be lovely enough to kiss him into oblivion before she unmanned him because he didn't take her response seriously enough. So much for him finishing what they started. At least for tonight, he would withdraw, regroup, and attack with a new strategy tomorrow. A few surprises more were in store for her yet.

He slowly unfurled his lithe frame from the floor and hunched over, moved to the bed. His head in his hands, appearing defeated; he sighed deeply. Jareth peeked through his fingers to look up at Sarah's guilty expression as she watched him observing her. Then she turned and picked up the ice bag again to refill it from the compact in-suite ice machine, and handed it back to him.

The clunking sound of the ice within the bag filled the room as Jareth cautiously placed it back on his still throbbing – and not in a good way – cock. The pain had subsided enough to think clearly.

"Sarah -"

"I'm sorry for causing you more pain." Soft, sincere, her voice flowed soothingly over his nerves.

"Oh...alright." Bored.

"Aren't you sorry for not stopping? You know, when I said we shouldn't go on?" She huffed indignantly.

"Not a bit, Precious. Just goes to show us both you can handle me well enough." Smug. "And that you fancy me enough to forget yourself and_ just be _with me. Well, until contracts come into it all. And I now know you taste like a sweet, succulent fruit. Mmm..." Cocky and confident, he moved to lay back on the bed, the ice bag still settled in his groin.

Sarah paced, barely a whisper, "You taste like candied pears." Her flushed face unseen by Jareth; he had his eyes on the ceiling and was counting sparkles in the ceiling finish as the last remnants of discomfort in his crotch subsided.

"Makes me wonder what your sweet quim tastes like, Sarah. Is it juicy?" He licked his lips in anticipation and smacked them loudly with a small groan following. "Will it taste like a ripe-"

She clenched her thighs together, her core molten with need still.

_Not now, please not now. Don't think about how right his body felt against yours. Don't think about how good he tasted. _

"Stop!" She paced back and forth, her arms crossed and her head bent to her chest, "You're seducing me with words." A deep breath, "We've already established that we want to fuck one another. Alright? The contract for Valentine Evenings ends as of ten pm on Sunday. I refuse to let this desire affect my livelihood here in the mortal realm."

"_'Fuck'_? That's such a harsh word, Precious. I prefer adore. I want to _adore_... and _ravish you_ – you being willing of course – Sarah Williams. But, I suppose I can wait until Sunday night." Jareth sighed good naturedly, as though he knew he would have her in his bed before then and her wishes were naught but silly things he let her believe. "And really, you could always come back to the Underground if you found things fell apart for you here. I'd love to have you at my beck and call. Day. And. Night." His tone darkened, setting goosebumps skittering across her arms. The kiss came to mind, along with two hot and sweaty bodies tangled in satin sheets.

She struggled a bit to breathe herself back to sanity. _Keep your wits about you Sarah. Remember he's still as dangerous as ever_, she reminded herself. _He may not have Toby, but he has you as the potential prize this time._

"Yes, well, I'm not likely to let that happen," she muttered determinedly. Switching conversations for something safer; "Would you like a pain pill for err..." She watched him wave her off from the bed.

"No, I'd like to have my wits about me. Thank you," he smirked, "I am however, hungry. And since your display earlier caused us to miss the bountiful feast that I had planned for us and all the guests I took great care to invite, you owe _me_ dinner."

"_I _owe _you_? You recreated one of my most poignant –to lull me into_ – never mind._ Forget it," Sarah threw up her hands. "I am going to get changed into regular clothes and hit the Carl's Jr. down the street. If you want to eat, be changed and ready to roll in ten minutes." And with that, Sarah of the gorgeous gown swirled out of the room in shades of scarlet from head to toe.

Fifteen minutes later found both Sarah and Jareth clad in blue jeans and plain white t-shirts making their way down the street towards the giant smiling star proclaiming "Carl's Jr". The streets were well-lit and sidewalks in good repair as the three blocks traveled brought home the slight chill of the night air.

She had opted for a blue cardigan, while he had a lightweight and well-worn brown leather jacket. His wig firmly in place; Sarah smirked a bit as she walked beside him, giving the faux hair sideways glances, her hands in her jean pockets so she wouldn't reach out to touch it. _Time enough for questions __this weekend,_ she decided. _If they could call a cease-fire_.

Each held their own counsel; dealing with internal thoughts, questions, dialogues of things that should and should not be said. They each, in unspoken agreement, opted to maintain the silence for the time being.

His confident, sensual stride (Sarah noticed his walk showed no discernible tremors from his nads being smashed twice in one day, no less) matched her energetic one as they quietly made their way inside the establishment, teeming with late night fast food junkies. The heavenly smells of beef patties, breaded chicken, potato wedges, and chili filled their senses; Jareth's stomach rumbled. Sarah gave him a shy smile and turned to the counter to order a smörgåsbord of delights for them to share.

They paid, picked up their food, and she let him pick the table for their movable feast. Consuming the fabulous cheese-y bacon-y goodness of the potato wedges, she wondered what he thought as he dug into his egg rolls with gusto. Occasionally, he'd glance up at her inquisitive looks, arch an eyebrow, and watch her turn her eyes away, blushing. Their eyes met several times, saying things with a glance that neither really wanted to interpret.

Jareth realized he had a line that could not be crossed at present, and she had the skills to put him down a peg or two physically if he should try to blur that maddening edge. He felt a bit put out, but held some respect for her being able to take care of herself.

Sarah for the most part wanted to know if they could start over. _So much history,_ she sighed inwardly, _could only lead to too much baggage for a new beginning. Yes, he's hot, he's autocratic, he kisses like a God...err Goblin King? should. Yes, there's glitter involved when he wants it to be, but that doesn't really deter me. We just need to … begin again. Can we? Could we make it through the weekend, _she wondered_, without her having to pull out the knee again? _She mused further as to who would break this not awkward absence of sound between them.

He was on his second order of chili cheese fries (originally hers) when the silence was broken. "This is all quite passable for _mortal food_. Underground cuisine is...a bit fussy, but delicious." he mused and then smirked at her, "Then again _you_ wouldn't be able to eat half of the food Underground – the Ambrosia would kill you – something to do with the fruits and the sauce – the Elvish wine would poison you – the nicest way to kill a mortal yet what with all the hallucinations that would make you think you could fly."

Sarah stole a fry from the chili cheese basket in front of him, "Sounds lovely," drolly, with her mouth full of half-chewed fry. Then she grinned cheekily, and stole another fry.

"Your manners are appalling. You know this right?" He sneered in his most poshest tones. "How do you even make money at this... this..." he waved his hands around, "escort business when you eat like an uncouth peasant? A lovely and feminine woman, but a female who takes down men with her knee and talks with her mouth full of food." Jareth sat back against the molded plastic booth, wiping his hands gingerly on the napkins she had provided earlier, his sloped eyebrows drew together in consternation. He grabbed his drink and took off the top – not trusting the 'straw' Sarah had placed in through the hole earlier – taking a swig of lemonade.

Sarah swallowed the fry down and moved toward him across the table holding up three fingers in his face. "First," she ticked off her finger, "Valentine Evenings makes a damn good dollar in the business of escorting people to functions. My girls are _professionals_. Secondly, all of us – _all_ my ladies and myself included – know which fork is the fucking salad fork, okay?" down went the second finger, "And third, you didn't pay for dinner tonight – I did – and I can damn well eat it however I want to." she smiled pleasantly, her voice dripping saccharine sweetness as she stuffed in another purloined chili cheese fry, and chewed obnoxiously loud.

The rest of dinner was a type of thoughtful quiet.

They left the fast food place, each with their hands in their own pockets. Jareth had grudgingly thanked her for dinner. And now, walking to return to the hotel, they were closer physically than before.

Jareth bent his head to his chest and mumbled. "I don't know much about you." Regret filled his words. Unspoken within his mind was, '_But I want to know more so I can get in your knickers._'

He grimaced. _Time enough for that_.

"When would you have known anything about me besides that I was a bit of a spoiled brat when I was fifteen?" she rejoined spiritedly.

"True, but you had such potential to be so much more." Wistful.

"I _am _more now; more than anyone realizes." Her tone was solid confidence.

"You're more powerful now for certain. You've grown into yourself." His purring tone let her know he was aware of her as a woman. It didn't hurt that he looked her up and down, languorously, taking in her curved hips, her breasts big enough to fill his hands, to her shining eyes.

"Can we start over?" Sarah turned to meet his beautiful mis-matched eyes with her own startling green. She wanted to implore him, to beg for a return to even footing. Only he could make the final decision as to how they went along.

"I can control time, but not ten years worth, no." A bit dejected, he watched her eyes sparkle, her warm smile slowly spreading across her face.

"No, I mean, can we start over... as friends? Not sparring partners? I'm tired of being slashed by wit and desire in the same moment and then getting hit over the head with baggage from the past. Can we call a truce to … all that came before?"

Sarah held out her hand with bated breath.

_Make the right choice Jareth_, she pleaded with her eyes.


End file.
